


Absolution

by GinnyRB



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-24
Updated: 2014-04-17
Packaged: 2018-01-16 22:21:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 37,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1363858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GinnyRB/pseuds/GinnyRB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What is it that draws James to Severus? A disease? A curse? A secret wish... a need? Try as he might to ignore the Slytherin, in the end, to Severus is where James always finds himself. **SLOW BUILD** Rated M for... certain kinds of scenes later on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Prologue: Creatures of Habit

It doesn't take much to make him balk. A flick of my wand, a choice curse, and then he knows. That is how it has been, how it will always be.

But sometimes, he forgets, and I have to remind him once more.

I caught him looking at her again. My Lily. His black eyes were on her again, staring, dark, and… gleaming. I feel something grow taught in me because he has no right. How dare he?

Lily is mine. Her red hair, her sparkling green eyes, her tight mouth when she's disapproving of me… again- They're all mine.

And he can't look at her.

I stalk up behind him- I leave Sirius, so he can entertain the masses for a bit- coming around the tree he's been sitting at. The tree he always sits at so he can have a perfect view of my Lily. And he thinks I don't know.

I'm getting angrier with every step I take. He's so transfixed by her that he doesn't sense me. Normally his paranoia would have sent him whirling on me already, wand in hand, an evil, dark art curse already formulated in his conniving brain for such occasions. They do happen quite often…

But he doesn't notice me.

A twig snaps under my headless, vengeful feet, but still he is relaxed, unaware of my pursuit of him.

How dare he?!

I glance up to where I know my love is. I see her red hair billowing behind her like an almost translucent ribbon caught by the wind. How I love her. She smiles, and I swear from even where I'm standing, I can see light sparkling off her cheeks.

And he's noticing, too.

Something in me wants to spit on him here, but that would be unworthy of the Gryffindor I am. So would be attacking him from behind. I'll give him a fair chance.

"Bewitched are we, Snivellus?" I'm surprised I managed to sound as cool as that, despite the anger flaming inside me. I'm so sick of him watching her!

His back doesn't even tense before he's spun around, wand flexed out towards me. However, I'm too quick for him. I've always been too quick for him.

"Expelliarmus," I say easily, the spell reflexive to me. His wand goes soaring behind him, lost to the trees. It's a shame it didn't land in the lake right next to us. I know I would have relished to see the lake squid snap it in two. Ah well…

His dark eyes that had been so hazy when watching my Lily are now narrowed, pointed, and blacker than usual. I smirk. His eyes slit even further, and I know his mind is working out how to disarm me. He knows what my purpose right then and there is. But really, he should know better by now.

I look off past him to show that even with my attention averted, he doesn't worry me in the least. My wand is aimed right at his throat, so he doesn't budge. Instead, he looks out of the corner of his eye to see what I'm looking at. His eyes widen only slightly, almost imperceptibly.

I'm watching Lily giggling with one of friends. She's so wonderful that she doesn't even understand how much more glorious she is compared to all the other girls. And she's mine.

I look back at Snivellus, hard. My jaw is tight, I can feel that, and I only hope it adds to my seriousness. He looks at me, and I know he knows that I know what he was doing.

Yes, and the look in his eyes almost makes me smile.

"You really shouldn't, you know," I say casually. "It'll do you no good." It's like I'm being concerning, warning this little dark Slytherin against his lacking judgment. But I'm not. I'm warning him to stay away, to not taint what's mine with his darkness that fouls up everything-

"I'm astounded you've managed to even feign worry for another," he says coolly as he observes me with his obsidian eyes. I hate that. I hate how he doesn't yet understand the situation he's in, though he should. "Then again," he eyes shift to look beside him, "that's really not unlike you." I feel myself simmering with rage, but I remain calm.

"Come now, Snivellus. Think you know me?" I flick my wand blithely, and I notice him tense at it. He's not looking at me. He's too anxious about my wand, so I let myself smile.

"I can understand your aspirations, Potter," he says evenly. "But it must be difficult for you-" His tone is so mocking- "to cover up all that scheming." For a moment, I blank. I don't understand what he's implying. But then I do and focus on that he just called me a…

"Petrificus Totalus," I spell. His body locks together, legs snap close, arms pulled to his sides, and he freezes. Good. I want him to shut it. He needs to shut it. He needs to know his place. I inch just a little close, dropping my voice as I speak. "Now, now Snivelly… I know you weren't just insulting me by calling me a Slytherin, were you?" My wand is so close to that pallid throat of his, and I imagine his neck quivering in fear from the proximity to it. I wait patiently for him to speak, knowing he can't. I feel myself grinning. "I didn't think so. If so, no doubt I would have lost my breakfast." I laugh heartily, and I see his beetle-black eyes tapering into mere slits.

"Leave her alone, Snivellus," I say darkly. His eyes are blank, and the anger rises in me just a hair. "Quit tailing her like the disgusting shadow you are." It's very much a command. I let the threats remain unsaid, but I know he can hear them underlying my words. I smile. It's unassuming, disarming… the smile I use with all the oblivious teachers. It works wonders.

He merely looks at me, and I tell myself that's all he can do, though. I press my wand just under the junction of his jaw and neck just barely, still smiling. Then I hear my Lily's laughter carried over to me like a well needed breath. I turn and leave Snivellus there.

The curse will wear off… in a couple of hours. Best to let him think about what he's done.

The heat is low with the setting sun as I walk. I run a hand through my hair and fix my glasses.

"Hello, Evans," I say. Lily turns and smiles at me, and I forget all about the shadow locked under the day. Such is the routine.


	2. Revenge... So Much Sweeter Once Embittered

 

"Come on James! I'm so boooored!"

James looked up from the book he was reading and cast his friend a sympathetic look. Sometimes Sirius was a handful. "Sorry mate," he smiled as he pointed to the book. "Have to read this first."

"Why?" Sirius asked. James frowned and turned back to the book.

"Because I'm curious about something," James said simply, running a hand tiredly through his hair.

"What about?" his friend persisted, sitting up more. James shook his head, both from humor and exasperation.

"Can't you go find Moony and bother him for a bit?" He watched as Sirius pouted, his shoulder length, black hair a little mussed from laying.

"Certainly. You know how much he loves to be bothered when he's studying," Sirius replied sarcastically.

"What do you think I'm doing?" James asked.

"But this isn't for school, Prongs," Sirius supplied knowingly, waving a hand towards James' book.

"Well, go find Peter then," James sighed, trying in vain to read in his book. Sirius was about to say something, James saw, but he shut his mouth the next second. Sirius got up abruptly from the chair he'd been lounging in and made his way to the portrait hole. James could have sworn he heard, as Sirius was climbing through the hole "little prat," but he didn't know if it was directed at him or not.

Again, James ran a hand through his tangled, dark hair which stuck up every which way. Sirius was getting restless these days, and James wondered what it was that was bothering him so much. However, he never asked. Sirius should know that whatever it was, he could tell James; James wasn't going to force it out of him.

He reclined back in his chair, the front two legs lifting off the ground—he used a levitating charm to keep his chair steady— and he folded his arms behind his head, while looking about the abandoned Gryffindor common room. Tapestries depicting the heroic deeds of James' Gryffindor predecessors adorned the faded, red walls like a wallpapered book. There was a fire blazing orange in it's hearth, and worn, high-back chairs circled it invitingly. James was sitting in the back on the room, off in a corner as it was one of his favorite spots.

A place where he had a perfect view of everyone else.

Lily often chose the chair closest to the hearth (if she could get it), and it always left James an ideal view of her concentrated (and unaware) profile as she lost herself to books and homework.

James let out another one of his increasing sighs.

But she wasn't there then and neither was anyone else, so James shook his head, dropped the front two legs of his seat back down on the ground with a clunk, and turned to his book.

He read and read and read, and after awhile, the words became nothing more than blurred lines of ink. He blinked his eyes and they watered. He removed his glasses and rubbed at the very corners of them in slow, circular motions. Finally, he closed the book forcefully and shoved it away from him. He propped his elbows on the table, entwined his fingers before his face, and rested his forehead against his knuckles.

And again he sighed.

What had all that meant? He had been curious after what Dumbledore had said—or had let slip—but it was so difficult to find what it all had meant. This book had proven to be just as vague and elusive as all the other useless tomes he had perused.

He dropped his arms before him upon the table, fingers still interlaced, and rested his head against the cool form of the wooden desk.

It shouldn't be such a big deal to him. He was curious; that was all, and it wasn't as if this was the most important thing he should be concentrating on. There was Lily to think about—and how he liked thinking of that—and there was also the O.W.L.S to get ready for, though James wasn't particularly worried about them. There were pranks to invent (at least for bored Sirius' sake), quidditch practices (the Slytherins could not be allowed any triumphs this year, James vowed), and so many other things.

What was one unfulfilled curiosity anyway?

He turned his head so that his ear and cheek were laying on the table, and he stared out of one of the windows across the room. All he could see was the sky burning pink, yellow, and orange. It would be supper time soon, but James wasn't particularly hungry. He didn't know if it was because of his unsuccessful, academic conquest or because he hadn't yet gone riding.

Decidedly, he lifted himself up and strode to the fifth year boys' dormitories. He entered the room, four empty and made beds occupied the circular room, and he strode to his own bed. He grabbed his infamous cloak that looked like a spilled, viscous, shimmering liquid. It was a beloved tool of his and one that always guaranteed a sudden getaway when pranks went awry. With the cloak in hand, he set off to the Quidditch field. He needed the cloak just in case he stayed out too late, which he did... often.

He walked the corridors, and many people called out his name and waved to him as he passed. He returned the greetings, wave, smile, and all, and messed up his hair as he passed by a particular group of girls— many of whom were Lily's friends.

As he passed outside Hogwarts entrance, he also passed by a gang of seventh year Slytherins. James recognized the cool features of Lucius Malfoy, one of the most arrogant Slytherins, and who was, no doubt, leading that mindless group of snakes. They glared at James like he was an infectious disease, and he smiled and waved enthusiastically in turn, like they were some of his best mates. They visibly bristled at that, turned on their uppity, little heels, and pranced away like the little gits they were.

Merlin, he hated those bastards.

The grass made soft, rustling sounds as he walked, and soon he reached the wide, green expanses of the playing field. After retrieving his broom with a well used Accio charm, he swung his leg over his wooded steed and breathed in richly, letting the somewhat arid, fall air fill his lungs. Then he kicked off and tore upwards.

He rose and rose until he was well above the treetops surrounding the field... until he could see Hagrid's hut perfectly on the other side of Hogwarts' grounds... until he even thought he could see the little town of Hogsmeade way on the other side of the black lake. Once he thought he was high enough, James paused and watched as a sea of clouds slowly drifted by beneath him.

Then he leaned forward, nose almost touching his broom, and shredded through those clouds. Winds whipped at his face and ripped through his hair, and it both stung and soothed him. Yes, this always cheered him up.

He shot upwards and then dove downwards. He looped in circles, tried to flip off his broom, missed and had to accio his broom towards himself before he fell (and was wholly thankful no one was around to see his blunder), and finally landed on the ground when the sky became an inky, dark blue. He stowed away his precious broom before he set off for dinner.

He felt better already.

* * *

 

"Did you do something to Evans again?"

James looked up from the potatoes he'd been cramming in his mouth, and looked down the table. He caught Lily's green—and for some reason, glaring—eyes and gulped the lumpy food down painfully. He looked to Sirius.

"No, why? Why is she looking so miffed?" James asked. "Maybe _you_ did something," he accused.

"Please, James," came Remus' calm voice, his expression tired as he brushed his light brown fringe from his eyes. "No one can make her as mad as you, and judging by that venomous look..." and he glanced towards Lily, "...you've done something." James snorted and ruffled his hair unknowingly.

He was about to stake his claim on innocence when something abruptly came to the foreground of his mind. A promise he'd made… A promised he'd made last week… A promise he'd help Lily with the essay set by Professor Corbarden, their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, and which was due… tomorrow…

Shit!

And then Sirius was laughing, the bark-like sound of it filling the hall. The prat.

"Shut it, Sirius," James growled, dropping his head out of Evans' glare range, his face close to his plate.

"When you're right, you're right, mate!" Sirius laughed, ignoring his guilty friend. "I knew you did something!"

"She'll get over it... whatever you've done. She always does," Remus said, biting into small cut of steak. Good ol' Moony.

"Did I ever mention I liked you best?" James said to Remus over his corn and potatoes. A pea was flicked at his face, the green bit hitting him in the corner of his eye. James went to glare at Sirius who was innocently cutting into some chicken.

"What did you do?" came the squeaky voice of Peter, a small, round boy with mousy hair and mousy features. James smiled deviously.

"Oh, you know how it is…" James said elusively, and Peter nodded his head like he knew what James was talking about. Sirius quirked one eloquent eyebrow.

"Leaving something unfulfilled, Jamesie?" Sirius asked, just as vaguely. James waggled his eyebrows suggestively, and Sirius laughed. Remus rolled his eyes, and brought a book out from Merlin knows where, while Peter looked from James to Sirius.

"In all honesty," Sirius said, a bit breathless, "what are you going to do to rectify this little botch of yours?" James felt confident to sit back up, assured that Lily was no longer trying to glare daggers at him.

"It's as Remy says," James began.

"I hate that name, James," Remus quipped from behind his book.

"She'll come around," James finished, ignoring his friend.

So dinner past by with no more death threats for James, and it ended with another one of Dumbledore's short, sweet, and barking mad speeches. As the plates were spelled clean, James and the rest of his Marauder friends made their way, behind the chattering crowd of students, to the Gryffindor tower. James kept his unwavering focus on the bobbing, red head of Lily several feet away, thinking he could make it up to her that evening, while Sirius prattled on about Professor Slughorn's latest get-together.

James was nodding his head instinctively at the parts he should—years around Sirius had honed this skill—when he saw someone brush their arm not so casually against Lily's, the arm belonging to a familiar (and hated) Slytherin.

The slimy bastard!

James felt a growl collect in his throat, but he held it back as his hand reached for his wand tucked away in his robes. Sirius, being as intuitive as James was, also made for his wand; however, James stayed his own and Sirius' hand. There were too many people around.

James snarled as Lily turned to Severus Snape, a fifth year Slytherin whose greasy hair framed a sullen, hallow face and one big nose, and she smiled! Snivellus upturned his nose, like he was too good to apologize, but mumbled something nonetheless. Lily inclined her head, and that's where the Gryffindors and Slytherins parted their ways (as well as Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students). Remus was oblivious to what had just happened and followed the Gryffindors, and though Peter noticed that Sirius and James had stopped, Sirius had shaken his head at him. So Peter turned and followed Remus, his head slightly bowed.

James felt torn for a brief moment as he came to the crossroad where the groups separated. A part of him would like nothing more than to go after Snape and hex him into oblivion while another part wanted to run off to Lily and apologize for earlier and also comfort her from her traumatizing encounter with that slimy snake. Sirius waited patiently by his side as James deliberated between the two options.

Finally, he concealed his wand back into his robes and wordlessly made his way to the Gryffindor tower. It took Sirius a moment to realize they weren't going to follow Snape, but soon James heard his friend padding to catch up to him.

"I know that look," Sirius said simply, stashing away his own wand. James smiled and knew it wasn't pleasant.

Neither of those options were as good as the third one.

"Best go win my fairest lady's heart… again," James said, heading for the Gryffindor tower.

"Again?" Sirius repeated incredulously. "When did you ever win it to begin with?"

* * *

 

The only good thing about Professor Binns' class was being able to sleep.

James had gone to bed last night, heated and indignant, and hadn't slept too well because of it. He didn't think Lily would have reacted so angrily after he had apologized. He had tried to tell her that it was only because his dear mate, Remus, had been cornered by the brutish Slytherins that he had missed their study date, for it had been up to James, the brave Gryffindor that he was, to try and save Remus.

It would have worked if Sirius hadn't piped up and told Lily that Remus had been studying with him in the library all afternoon.

Stupid Padfoot.

Lily had really gotten angry after that. She had even gone so far as to try and jinx James by having the title LIAR flash in red and gold across his forehead. It had taken James (with the enforced help of Sirius) nearly two hours to remove it. Even now, if someone looked hard enough, they could still probably see the thin outline of the word.

James grumbled into his folded arms while Professor Binns droned on and on about some treaty the wizards and muggles had made years and years ago. Like James could care. He peeked over his arm and looked about the room. Remus was bent over parchment, writing furiously—he was one of the tiny few who took Binns seriously—while Peter was doodling all over his papers. Sirius was trying to make some pass at a Ravenclaw girl by charming her quill to write the words 'Fancy a snog later?' all across her notes. She didn't look too eager on the uptake, but James had to hand it to Sirius. The boy never had let an opportunity pass him by.

Lily, who was several seats ahead of him and diagonal from his desk, was the only other one besides Remus (and a couple Ravenclaws) who was bothering with notes. Her red hair was draped over her thin shoulders, and her hand moved fluidly across the parchment. From time to time, she would flip her hair back over onto her back, and James really wished he could just touch it.

James burrowed his face into his sleeves, though, and let out another grumble. He was still peeved with Lily, no matter how pretty she looked. He fell asleep moments later, thinking how he was going to make it up to her. He could trust his mates to wake him up.

Besides, he didn't want to be all groggy for his next class: Potions.

No, James smirked before his daydreams took him, he definitely did not want to fall asleep next class.

* * *

 

James walked into Potions class and took his usual seat, Sirius taking his next to James, while Remus and Peter sat behind them. Lily sat in the front row and all the way across the room from James. Normally she sat in front of him, that was how James had planned the seating, but not today. It seemed she'd rather be surrounded by the Slytherins.

That was fine with James.

He'd give her the front row of the show.

Seconds later, the Slytherins filed in. Rosier, a boy with dark, muddy red hair and one of the dumbest brutes James had ever had the misfortune of seeing, stalked in, and just behind him, the very spidery, Slytherin boy James had been waiting for. James smirked as he watched the skittish Snivellus slide into a seat, a row just in front of Lily. James concealed his vengeful mirth at the perfect vantage point he had now.

Sirius caught James' expression, and looked over at the Slytherins. It didn't take but a second later for Sirius' expression to match James'.

"Wonder what kind of things Snivelly writes in his potions book," James said offhandedly. Snivellus was always writing things down into the book. Sirius' smirk widened.

"It's probably his little diary," Sirius said.

"Is that so?" James uttered. He got up from his seat and strode over to where Lily was. Sirius followed.

"Evans," James announced, stepping up in front of her desk, Sirius slightly behind him and to his left. She didn't so much as look at him but dropped her books onto her desk with a loud thud. "Oh no, Evans, don't be angry with me. You know I can't handle it," James said, making his voice intentionally louder than it should be.

She glared at him.

"If you think that I even remotely care, you are sadly mistaken, Potter," she said evenly, her green eyes sharp, her usually round lips pulled into a thin line. James had to focus.

"Must we use such formalities?" he asked, leaning on her desk and completely ignoring her retort. He saw out of the corner of his eye, Sirius reaching down towards the floor. "It makes our relationship a mockery, Lily," he said.

"You're the only mockery around here, James," Lily responded with pseudo sweetness, looking pointedly at his forehead, and James resisted the urge to cover it. There came a chorus of 'Oooooh' broken in with laughter from his housemates. This kind of interaction between him and Lily was nothing new to his fellow Gryffindors, and James knew they rather enjoyed Lily rejecting him time and time again.

But this time was different. James knew what he was doing.

"You know… I might be able to straighten my act if only someone were to show me the error of my ways," he said, picking up one of her books and flipping it this way and that as if examining it. "Are you up to it?" he asked suddenly. He felt the whole room silence. He even had the complete, absorbed attention of the one person this little show was for.

James smiled because he couldn't help himself.

Lily blinked several times; James watched as her long lashes went up and down.

"Are you insulting me, Potter?" she asked, tone flat, taking the book from his hand. James shook his head. He really needed to hurry up before Old Slughorn arrived.

"Dearest Lily, surely such a thing is not even possible," he said innocently, folding his arms behind his back. As Lily opened her mouth to respond, he felt something pushed into his open hand.

A spine.

A spine of a book.

Just then there came a loud noise, like a crashing of chairs, a grunt, and then there was a lot of shouting.

"Watch where you're going, Black," snarled one boy. James turned to look, along with everyone else. Snivellus was on the floor, his chair toppled over him and his black, greasy looking hair brushed all into his face. Sirius was standing up looking as if he hadn't done anything wrong in his entire life, but James knew better.

"Sorry there, Snivelly. Didn't seem to notice you there," Sirius droned. "At all, actually," he added, earning several laughs from the others. James watched as Snivellus' upper lip rose into a snarl, his black eyes glaring maliciously.

As much as James would have been amused to watch this particular bit of Snape-bating, he had things to do. While everyone was completely fixated on the scene of Sirius and Snivelly, James shuffled to a corner of the room, oblivious by all. He looked at the Potions book that Sirius had retrieved for him. The spine was worn and the fabric cover was torn in the corners and fraying. It was all dirty, and splotches of James didn't even want to know what were all over it.

But needs must, James supposed, resenting having to touch the tome.

He pulled out his wand, muttered a few choice incantations, tapped the cover of the book a few times, muttered another spell, and then he was done.

Sidling back to where he was, no one the wiser, he placed the book back into the bag it belonged to.

"Quit pretending to be anything other than the little sycophant you are, Black," Snivellus hissed, standing up and trying his best to stare down Sirius who was several inches taller. James saw the Slytherin's fingers twitching toward his robe and knew he had to step in. This is where Act One needed to conclude, James thought, and Slughorn would be coming in any second now—the man was always late to his own classes.

"Don't be so pretentious, Snivellus," James said coolly, laying a hand on Sirius' shoulder. Snape froze just a second before turning to glare at James. "Maybe you should apologize for always having yourself in the way," he said dryly. He heard Sirius laugh next to him.

Before Snape could even lash out or before Lily could admonish him, James strode back to his desk, Sirius already having made his way back, just as Professor Slughorn came striding in.

"Alright, we have a lot to cover, as you all know!" the Professor announced brusquely, hurrying to the board, unaware of what had just happened. Snape scrambled into his seat and looked as if he had deeply shamed his house. James smirked.

"The O.W.L.S. have a very special talent of sneaking up on you when you least expect it, and we must have you all prepared!" Slughorn sang as he flicked his wand. Instructions for a potion appeared on the board, and it looked slightly complicated, even for James. "We've been easing into our lessons these past couple of weeks, but now we have to hit them hard!

"I will be utterly disappointed if any of you fail my subject," Slughorn said, turning to look at the class. "But some of you I have the highest assurance of," he winked at Lily, James saw, and nodded to Snivelly. James thought it intolerable for his lovely Lily to be put on the same level as Snivellus.

Ah well, Snivellus would get his.

James opened to the page the directions told him to while Slughorn went on and on about the level of difficulty this potion was. The only reason why James even pretended to care about this class was because Lily had said it was her favorite.

"James," came Remus' soft voice behind him. James leaned back in his chair and tilted his head thoughtfully to show he was listening. "What did you do?" Moony asked him.

Just like a prefect.

"What do you mean?" he asked confusedly as he flipped the pages lazily.

"I know you're up to something," Remus whispered, "only because Sirius looks like Christmas has come early." James frowned exasperatedly over at Sirius who in turn scratched the back of his head sheepishly.

"What, mate?" Sirius pouted. "Remus is just pickin' on you again," he said. He tilted back in his chair, and he gave Remus a lopsided, upside-down grin. "Our hands are clean," he smiled. Remus' mouth got very tight, James saw from his peripheral vision.

"Just don't get us into trouble," he quipped as he turned to his own Potions book.

"Us? What have you done?" Sirius asked, letting the legs of the chair thunk back onto the floor. He turned around to face Remus expectantly. "Feeling guilty, are you?" he asked, grinning.

"Me and Peter are always lumped in with your troubles," he said, his eyes moving back and forth over the words in his book. "Guilty by association." Sirius frowned and was about to reply when Slughorn rapped the board several times with his wand.

"Now, now, you four," he called, looking over at James and them, "Get to work or you will not make it in my class," he admonished gently. Slughorn, even though he was head of Slytherin, never punished James and his mates. Something about their charisma and talents made Slughorn… favor them. James saw Snape give the professor a look of incredulity, and it only fueled his fire.

"Yes, sir," James said automatically, finding the page at last. Sedosomnio, the title of the chapter read. James sighed. He remembered his mother making this for him and adding it to his tea whenever he had had nightmares as a kid— he had always like the peppermint his mum had added to it—and he felt a twinge of sympathy for his mum as he read over the instructions again.

Nasty little concoction to make.

Without a word, Sirius got up and walked over to the cabinet to retrieve the ingredients they would need while James set up their cauldron and tools. Ingredients in tow, Sirius came back just as James had lit the fire under the cauldron. They set to work quietly, Remus and Peter mirroring them as they, too, went to work.

But James was only biding his time.

They chopped the coriander, minced the leaves of the valerian, and James had to be careful when crushing the rue, not wanting any of the plant's oil to burn his skin. Minutes passed—Slughorn made his rounds from student to student, observing their progress, praising Lily, clucking his tongue at Nott—and James was being the good, diligent schoolboy as he stirred the ingredients in the cauldron.

After awhile, though, Sirius nudged him in the arm, and James knew, without even looking, that his friend's expression would be asking him if it was time yet. James smiled minutely and pulled out his wand from inside his robes. He adjusted the intensity of the flame with a spell, and then, as he was putting it back into his robes, he gave his wand another small wave, intoned a spell quietly, before he concealed it in his sleeve.

A crash of books and swishing of papers sounded, and James watched as Snape scrambled to pick them all up. Sadly, for him, as his book had fallen, it had also opened. James couldn't restrain the smile even if he had wanted to.

"OH YES!"

Snape's hand stopped just short of the book.

"GODS, I WANT YOU!" the book shouted. Snape's face paled to a lovely, and sickeningly, shade of white. The rest of the class fell silent, and Slughorn spun around as the book exclaimed more and more obscene things. "Ah—that's… so… GOOD!"

James watched with amusement as Snape's inky, pupil-less eyes widened so that his dark irises were but small circles against the white of his eyes. Slughorn began ordering Snape to shut the book up, hovering over him, face red with indignation, as the class erupted into fits of hysteria, even the Slytherins. Peter was banging his fist on his desk, shaking with laughter, as Sirius' eyes glinted with delight. Snape just sat there.

"Mmm—MERLIN! YES!" the book yelled.

Finally, Snape lunged for the book and tried to shut it. It didn't, though. It was a common spell James had used to keep the book from shutting. Wizards used it all the time so that they didn't loose their place, or so that books, which sometimes had the nasty ability of being sentient, didn't shut themselves closed on the reader.

If Snape couldn't figure that out, he deserved it all.

"Don't... STOP…!"

Sirius was doubled over laughing now along with the rest of the class as the book moaned and screamed- Slughorn looked as if he was going to hex something or someone- while Snape just kneeled over it, book clutched in his white hands, looking helpless and incensed.

It was all so sweet for James.

Snivellus should know better.

James looked over at Lily. She was tilting over her desk looking as if she were struggling between helping Snivelly and keeping to her Gryffindor decorum which prohibited such a thing towards a Slytherin. James frowned. She should be laughing alongside everyone else, not fighting some urge to help him!

But she didn't seem amused at all.

James felt the hilarity and satisfaction in him whither away. What was the point if the girl he was avenging, the girl this whole prank was set up for, didn't find it funny? There wasn't one. James no longer found it funny either. Now he just didn't care.

He caught Snape glaring at him, eyes conveying that he knew exactly who to blame for this, but James felt nothing. He merely looked at Snape; Snape was nothing more than some black speck on the floor to James right then. James went back to his potion which was simmering just as it needed to. He'd get good marks for this one, James knew. Just like how Mum used to make…

Finally, Snape had seemed to remember the counter-spell to the that which locked his book open. James heard the muffled shut, and then the ecstasy-filled exclamations of the book deafened. But the entire class was still laughing, say for Snape, Remus, Lily, and now James.

Slughorn paused for a short moment, appearing stunned the book had actually stopped it's declarations, before turning to his board and furiously writing out the day's notes on the board as he lectured the class. Slughorn was ventilating to no one in particular, just fuming away as if the whole incident had been wholly offensive to him and not Snivellus. James just copied down the notes onto some parchment in between stirring the potion now bubbling blue while the class' laughter began to quiet a little.

All of a sudden, Sirius slapped James across the back just as James was mixing the contents, and it made the ladle he held knock into the cauldron, causing the contents to slosh dangerously close to the rim.

"Careful, Sirius," James said. "You don't want to spill the potion, do you?" Sirius took James' nonchalance as added humor to the prank they had just pulled, so he went along with it.

"'Course not, James," he said with a breathless voice, still chuckling a bit, "These kinds of things must be taken seriously." He started laughing again, but James didn't really know from what. James didn't really care at the moment either. Apart from apathy, he only felt one another sensation.

And it was building in the pit of his stomach.

He let Sirius add chamomile to the potion, the final ingredient, while he focused on that sensation. It wasn't nausea, James knew; after that one night him and Sirius had waged to see who could drink the most butterbeers in one sitting, there could be no confusion as to how queasiness felt. He didn't think it was gas- that was more painful than anything- and he knew it wasn't because he was hungry- all those pancakes he had eaten…

No, this felt… heavy… and it rose and fell like a wave of sorts.

"Hey, wanna pour this and hand it in?" Sirius asked him suddenly, breaking James from his thoughts. He looked to Sirius who was bent over the cauldron and wrinkling his nose as he sniffed the potion. Sirius, without looking at him, held out a phial to him, and James took it wordlessly, ladling in some of the Sedosomnio they'd made. He vanished what remained of the potion in the cauldron- Sirius looked as if he was getting dazed from the fumes of it- and made his way to place his and Sirius sample with everyone else's on Slughorn's desk.

As he made his way back, however, he walked past Snape. For a brief moment, he had caught Snape's eye, and that feeling in him reeled. Only, he felt it in his chest. It was a tightening pressure, and it made James stagger for a moment. He clutched at his chest for the briefest of seconds, before the feeling subsided and was gone, just like that.

Snape hesitated for a moment beside him. Then Snape smiled. It was ruthless.

"I'd say that was guilt," Snape hissed at him, his voice low and almost unintelligible, "but I think we both know better than that." James didn't even ponder what Snape had meant by that. He merely straightened fully so that he was looking down at Snape.

"I actually didn't know a lot of things until today," James said vaguely, smiling just slightly. "Tell me, Snivellus, what exactly is that book for?" he added lightly. Those closet to James and Snape laughed again, but Snape remained emotionless as he stared up at James.

"You have quite the imagination, Potter," Snape said coldly, quietly, spitting James' name as he spoke. And then he moved past James and to Slughorn's desk. James turned his head to retort something clever when he caught Lily's eyes.

There was no anger there.

No, that was sheer disappointment.

James held back his words and instead strode back to his desk where Sirius was waiting and watching him curiously.

"What was that about?" his friend asked him, cleaning up their supplies.

"What was what about?" James asked, plopping into his seat and running his hand through his hair.

"That— just now—with Snivellus." James peeked over his friend and grinned.

"I don't think he appreciated our prank, Sirius," James replied solemnly. He saw Remus shake his head slowly from the corner of his eye. Sirius feigned hurt.

"But that was a brilliant bit," Sirius protested. James shrugged his shoulders and put his hands in the air.

"What can I say, Sirius?" He lowered his hands and stared off at nothing in particular. "Suppose we'll just have to try harder the next time," he said distantly.

He heard Sirius snort in approval. Of course there'd be a next time.

Soon class was dismissed—Slughorn looked all too eager to have everyone leave—and Snape was the first out the door, the little snake. Everyone else, as they left, were all talking about the hilarity of Snape and the orgasmic book. James was just following behind Remus when his arm was grabbed suddenly and he was pulled back.

"Oy! What the hell do you think you're—" but he stopped as he registered it was Lily who had a hold of him. "Oh," he said simply as Lily let his arm go. Sirius made to stay behind, but James waved his hand for him to leave. Sirius hesitated for a moment, but whether by Lily's expression or Remus' insistence, he left. James pretended to brush off some imaginary dust while he waited for Lily's lecture.

It didn't come.

She merely looked at him.

"Did you like the show?" James asked casually as students walked by.

"Don't," she snapped. That was good. James could work with anger.

"You mean you didn't? That's a shame, and after all the hard work-"

"Don't," she repeated, interjecting. James sighed.

"What is it Evans? I don't want to be late for Transfiguration," James said. "You know how McGonagall gets when someone's late to her-"

"Do you feel any better?" she asked him. Her tone was cold, and it was unlike anything James had ever heard from her before. He couldn't even think of anything to respond with, he was that stunned. "Yes, I supposed you would," she answered. James had enough reaction in him to feel his jaw tightened at that statement.

With one last tense second of Lily holding James captive with her disappointment, James felt the reverberation of that feeling from earlier, and then she was off, leaving James to stand there alone.

Her footsteps were echoing along the now abandoned corridor, and the light pouring in from the windows was bright.

And it was so strange.

The sensation claiming him once again was so strange. It started in his stomach and rose and rose until it was in the center of his esophagus.

And it burned.

But this wasn't like anything he had felt before. It was almost as if it were bile, jetting up from his gut, and yet James knew it wasn't that. It felt like a tightening pressure, like when he had held his breath for too long and everything would shrivel inside him until he let the breath out. And it was heavy. It was like a stone had been tossed to the very bottom of his stomach, and it was pulling him down.

And all James could do in that moment, caught in something he didn't know, was to try and breathe steadily.


	3. Detention and Encounters

"This is too strange."

James checked the clock that hung above the fireplace and heartily ignored the same comment Sirius had been making over and over again that night. It was getting tiring, not to mention annoying. Yes, it was bloody strange, but James was tired of hearing it.

"What are you going to do, Prongsie?" Sirius asked him as he reclined further into his chair. James didn't respond; he was tired of Sirius asking that question, too, so he ticked off the seconds and watched as the hour hand crept ever closer to Eight o'clock.

It was unusual for the common room to be as deserted as it was right then. Usually, after supper, it was much more crowded, everyone piling in the room to work on assignments or to study, and one usually had to vie for a seat. This evening, however, it seemed everyone preferred the library or the dorms. Only James and his mischievous three friends (plus two seventh years and a dozing sixth) occupied the room.

Currently, Sirius was lying across a high-back chair while Remus sat at the foot of it using the table before him for all his books and papers—Remus would be the only of them to study at a time like this. Peter was snoring unbearably loud in the chair across from them, completely oblivious. James, however, was too restless to be idle and so took to pacing back and forth.

"James, really mate, what are you going to do?" Sirius asked again, and James really hated the way his best mate was smirking. He should be exuding his condolences to James, not taking delight from James' plight. James gritted his teeth.

"I guess what we always do when we get detention," James said a bit caustically. He had been feeling on edge lately, and Sirius' banter wasn't helping it any. Thankfully, though, James had something to blame his irritation on.

"But that's different," Sirius replied, spelling Remus' papers to start levitating off the table and around his head. "You're going into this one alone." Remus, looking completely peeved, began snatching the papers floating in the air and grumbling about Sirius and how he wished it was Sirius who had detention (that way he could at least get some studying done). James found he quite agreed with that.

He wondered if he could find McGonagall and barter his freedom for Sirius' captivity. Surely she would agree to that. Sirius was the one who had turned her hat into a birds nest that one time (birds and all).

… but Sirius hadn't been the one late to her class, so…

James sighed bitterly as he plopped himself into a free chair. Sirius was grinning at him again and was opening his mouth to, no doubt, ask the same bloody question, when James, fed up, hexed Sirius mouth shut with a silencing charm. Sirius began to mumble through his closed lips and waved his arms about. Remus looked up at Sirius approvingly.

"Why hadn't I ever thought of that before?" Remus mused. Sirius glared at him and tried to kick him. However, Remus' reflexes were too quick for Sirius, and he quickly shifted out of harm's way. Peter let out a rather obnoxious snort just then, but before James could perform the same silencing spell, the clock chimed.

"Dear James," Remus said somberly as he moved his books away from Sirius' still kicking leg, "May the lion lend you its courage." James smiled tightly as he placed a hand over his heart and bowed. The saying wasn't as funny as it usually was, because usually James wasn't the only one it needed saying to.

As he climbed through the portrait hole, he was suddenly pulled back. James whirled around to find Sirius clutching his robes, looking oh-so angry. James smiled sweetly as patted his friend's cheek.

"Don't worry for me, Sirius," he said dramatically, "I shall return." He yanked his robes from Sirius' hand and scrambled through the hole before Sirius could grab him again. "You better hope I make it through!" James laughed on the other side, "Or else no one will undo that charm. You know everyone prefers you that way." He waved as the portrait of the Fat Lady swung closed on Sirius' glaring expression.

Turning around, James felt the smile slip from his face like water. Smiling was effortless to him, and it was just as easy to be rid of it.

He took his time as he made his way for his transfiguration classroom. He wondered idly what he'd be doing to pass the time. Usually, the teachers would make the Marauders clean up whatever prank they had unleashed and been caught at—the pranks usually resulting in messes. But tonight James was on his own, and he hadn't been caught at a prank. He'd just been late to McGonagall's class.

That thought always incited that feeling within him.

Rarely did James ever think that something was unjust. If he and the Marauders got caught at their games, then it was only fair they be punished—if they couldn't get away clean then they deserved to clean. If he jinxed someone in the hall, it was because they deserved it—they probably got in James' way or looked at Lily. And if James was particularly harsh with a certain Slytherin than that was perfectly justified—that Slytherin always deserved it.

But this was ridiculous.

It hadn't been James' fault that he was late. He had been detained, and even though it had been Lily who had kept him, James didn't think it was right to blame her. No, it had been something else, something else that had kept him spelled to the spot in the deserted hall. James just didn't know what that was yet, and so the whole situation felt so completely unjust to him.

But he trudged on to his classroom.

He reached his destination and knew his professor was already alerted to his presence. Pushing the door open with a creak, he entered. Sure enough, McGonagall was already coming around the desk with a pile of papers in her hands.

"Glad to see you managed to be prompt this time, Mr. Potter," McGonagall said with a chill severity. James knew better than to mess with his professor when she was this way. No, best he tried to appease her as much as he could without being cloy.

"Yes, Professor. I don't want another strike against me," James said in defeat as McGonagall handed him the stack of parchment.

"Oh, I say we past all the allotted strikes in your first year, James," she said returning to her desk. James smiled. If she was already using his first name then this detention may not be so bad.

"Are these essays I'm helping you grade?" James asked, lazily flipping through some of them. He was disappointed to find that they weren't essays at all but loads and loads of notes. A shame. He would have loved to mark down those Slytherins' papers.

"I need to file through all those by subject matter and then further according to their dates," McGonagall said, picking up a quill and scribing away on her own stack of parchment in red ink. "It seems I let a few things slip from orderliness," she said, James was sure, more to herself. James hoped she became so engaged in her own task that she would dismiss him entirely. That way, James could relax more. When she didn't speak to him again, James set to work on his own mundane, tedious, and utterly boring chore.

He settled into the desk he used during Transfiguration and promptly began sifting and sorting through the pile. After awhile, he realized the surface of his one desk would not be enough for the smaller stacks he was creating, so he scooted three others up against his own.

James was certain eons and eternities had crawled by once he had managed to sort all the notes according to the subject matter—he had a pile for Switching-Spells, for Untransfiguration, for Animagi transformations, and so on. It was very difficult, however, to stifle the groan that wanted to escape from him when he glanced at the clock floating just behind his professor's bowed head. Only an hour had passed.

He was rather hoping that enough time had gone by that he could have return to his dorm for the night, whether the task had been completed or not. Surely McGonagall was sensible enough not to detain her own student way past his bedtime? However, it was becoming more apparent that James would just have to grit his teeth and get through the injustice.

At least if Pads, Moony, and Wormtail were with him, he wouldn't be so completely bored. And on top of the injustice and boredum, he now had a cramp in his neck. Splendid.

James shuffled through the last papers of the stack, arranged them as they needed to be, raised his arms above his head, and stretched.

"Done at last, Mr. Potter?" came McGonagall. James stifled the yawn that was just escaping and grinned sheepishly.

"It's a shame it's over," James joked.

"Well, if I had only realized it was such an effective means of punishment, I would have used it sooner," she said, peering at him over her square spectacles. James only managed a half smile. "Oh well. There's always the next time." She removed her glasses at looked at him pointedly. "You may go now, Mr. Potter. I trust you will be on time tomorrow." It wasn't just a statement but a subtle promise that she would, indeed, repeat tonight's torture should James blunder again. Inwardly, he grimaced at such a thought, and silently, after one last bow to his professor, left her classroom.

It wasn't until he had ascended three flights of steps that he realized McGonagall hadn't given him a pass of any sort, and nasty Filch was always stalking the corridors at night looking for wandering students. If he was caught… James wondered then if McGonagall had forgotten on purpose but nixed that idea. The lady was getting on in years, and memory fades quicker than youth. James couldn't begrudge her for her faulty memory. He snickered to himself knowing that such a description was the most untrue depiction to make of McGonagall. She was the fiercest witch he knew.

He rounded a corner, happy to find no Filch or Mrs. Norris, and walked under the snoozing portraits. He wondered if anyone would be waiting up for him. Sirius was a good bet, if only so James could undo the jinx. Then again, Remus often gave in to Sirius' relentless pouting, so there was a fair chance that Sirius was waiting up just so he could get James.

On second thought, how could James possibly be expected to sleep when his stomach was slightly growling? Turning on his heels, he backtracked through the corridor, headed down to the Entrance Hall, and then down the stairs that would lead him to the Hufflepuff common room. However, instead of turning right, he made a left, and after walking for a few minutes, he found the revered pear painting. He picked the spot, rose his fingers to the canvas, and began tickling the pear. It wriggled and then it swung open.

A warm, smoky smell wafted over to him as he stepped beyond the frame of the picture and into the school kitchen. Most of the house elves were snoozing away in their crib-like beds, but there were still some awake. Two spotted him and quickly made their way over to him, bowing and stumbling the whole time.

"Master Potter!" one exclaimed. His pillowcase attire was soiled with soot and spices, and he twisted them in his hands as if he were embarrassed to be dressed so. "Can we help you, sir?" He looked at him imploringly, and James was happy to oblige.

"Well, I am feeling a bit hungry…" he said, scratching his nose sheepishly. The second of the two beamed at him, her large, yellow, bat-like eyes staring at him gratefully.

"Of course, sir! Dippy and I is glad to cook for you!" She waddled over to one of the large pantries in the back. James chose a seat at one of the replica tables that mirrored the four in the Great Hall while the two house elves whipped him something up. He gazed across the room. How strange would it be…

He stood up and made his way to one of the end tables and sat down. It was a stupid curiosity, anyway. It wasn't like this was the actual Slytherin table (the fact that James was in the kitchen made that obvious), but James wanted to see how it felt to be on the opposite side of where he normally sat, where he normally stood.

But it was a stupid curiosity because the only thing he ended up feeling was the grumbling of his stomach.

"Ah! Here we is!" the boy house elf cried, placing a bowl before James.

"Eat up, please, sir!" the girl one squeaked. They disappeared into the room where the beds were kept and left James by himself. The soup was simple, but it smelled so good. Besides, the house elves didn't have to go out of the way (not that it was out of their way; James just liked the idea of sounding chivalrous), and James was grateful, nonetheless.

When the soup was completely gone (the house elves were so pleased that James had eaten every last drop), he was sent on his way with a piece of toast. James didn't know if the bread was some kind of farewell gift, but he accepted happily. He left the coziness if the kitchen, deciding that surely Sirius had either given up his stakeout or had gone to bed.

Clearing the stairs up to the Entrance Hall, James made to head to the seventh floor when he thought he heard something. Fearing it was Filch (and inwardly cursing that he didn't have his invisibility cloak), he darted across the hall and ducked behind the statues guarding the oak front doors. He peered around the shoulder of the statue cautiously. What he should really be on the look out for was the damn cat of Filch's.

A shadow emerged from the stairs leading from the dungeons. It crept around and up the Grand Staircase. James watched as it ascended the steps and disappeared from view. James certainly wasn't going to cower behind a statue all night long, and really! Best he keep an eye on the shadow from behind rather than it sneaking up on him.

James followed after the shadow carefully, at least until he could get to the seventh floor (the shadow was most likely Filch; it did have that weird hunched posture like the caretaker). James searched the floor while also keeping an eye on Filch. That sneaky cat was sure to be around her master. As long as James kept out of the cat's sight, he'd keep out of Filch's. The worrisome thing, though, was that he couldn't seem to locate any figure remotely resembling a cat.

He shouldn't even be looking for anyone or skulking around in darkness. And he wouldn't be in this mess if not for that detention (James couldn't say it was him going to the kitchen; he had needed food), and he wouldn't have received that detention if not for…

It was really all Snivellus' fault. Because he was so pathetically… pathetic, it made Lily feel sorry for him, and because of that, of course she wouldn't have found James' prank funny! Then she wouldn't have lectured him, and then James wouldn't have felt so… Damn Snivellus!

While lost in thought, James also lost site of the shadow. He panicked for a second when he realized Filch had disappeared, but rather than remain frozen and assuredly getting caught, he continued to go up the steps. Finally, he reached the seventh floor. He kept looking back to make sure Filch wasn't tailing him, but didn't see any sign of him.

As he crossed the floor, there came a strange hissing sound. He thought it odd but continued on anyway. As he neared the foot of the stairwell leading to the Gryffindor tower, the hissing became louder. He tiptoed up the steps wandering if he was stupid for willfully walking up towards such strange noises when the hissing stopped. Instead, voices emerged.

He braced himself against the curving wall and sidled along it as he climbed higher.

"I know that." The voice belonged to a girl, one that, even muffled, was distinctive as being Lily's. James stopped.

"You don't, though," another said. It was too low for James to know who it belonged to.

"This is why you called me out so late? For this?" James found it strange to hear such a tone coming from Lily on the non-receiving end of it, as it was usually reserved only for him.

"You didn't use to mind so much," the other replied. James was positive that it, at least, belonged to a boy. Why was Lily up talking to another guy besides James?

"That was before I had to spend all my time studying for the O.W.L.S.," she answered back tersely.

"No, it's because of him," the other spat.

"Oh please! Stop being so presumptuous," she demanded curtly. Yes, it was indeed bizarre to hear Lily so miffed with anyone besides James. And why was he feeling so jealous about it?

"When did you start lying so much?" he asked, his voice a strange, low hissing.

"About the same time you did," she retorted.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You can figure it out while I go back to sleep," she replied with a finality that would have even made James shut it. Who was this other person?

Thinking the conversation to be over, James took his chance to head back down the steps if only to avoid running into the other person. Was this the Filch shadow he had been following? Back on the seventh floor, he took refuge in a shadowy corner that left him a perfect view of the stairs. Whoever it was wouldn't remain a mystery long. James wracked his mind of all the guys Lily had close-ish ties with. James was number one, of course, followed by Sirius; Remus; Fred Longbottom; that Ravenclaw nerd, Allen; and… that was really about it (besides some of the teachers like Dumbledore, Slughorn, and Ol' Flitwick). So was that Allen then?

The figure finally came into view. James focused on him. When he really thought about it, the way the guy walked… something about it seemed… familiar…

James narrowed his eyes, squinting in the dark to discern who the shadow-man was. The way it crept... It was so skittish-like…

James' stomach dropped, and he gasped out loud. He covered his mouth but too late. The familiar figure stopped in his tracks, and James could tell he was looking over in his direction.

No. No way. It couldn't possibly be—!

"I know you're there," Snape hissed, hunching down even lower. James remained where he stood, not believing what he was seeing. Anger began worming its way up through his gut and then throughout him, making his heart surge forcefully. How could Lily?

"I said I know you're there!"

James stepped out of the shadows nonchalantly, his hands in his pockets, a smile on his face. Snape tensed at the sight of him. James wondered what Snape would have done if James had been Filch? Then he smiled, thinking that if that had been the case, Snape would have been very fortunate.

"Out of your lair? And at this time of night?" James asked walking closer, his slow footsteps echoing in the corridor.

"I could ask the same of you," Snape whispered venomously. James shook his head and pulled his hand out of his pocket. Snape, with the reflexives of a paranoid viper, pulled out his wand, aiming it directly at James. James stopped and with his hand, rubbed his stomach.

"Afraid I was out getting food from the kitchens," James smiled. "What's your excuse?" he asked, his tone dropping in volume, becoming a deadpanned whisper. Snape didn't say anything. He just held his wand steady. James was certain Snape knew what he was getting at or else Snape wouldn't have that expression on his pallid face.

"You know…. I have a theory about you," Snape said to him, a confidence that James didn't like gleaming in his beetle-black eyes.

"I'm touched that you seem to be thinking of me. No, wait... I meant disgusted," James replied, pocketing his hand again.

"Not as much as I am."

"I said I'm dis-gus-ted, not dis-gus-ting," James stated, leaning forward and raising his voice slightly. "You must not have heard me, or else you wouldn't have just insulted yourself. Then again," and he straightened, grinning maliciously, "maybe even you realize how unsightly you are." Snape stared at him for a moment. He was probably working out the great insult James had thrown his way. At any moment, Snape would either seethe, convulse, or curse him. Maybe all three! Wouldn't that be amusing…

Snape, instead, smiled ruthlessly.

"That's right," came his voice, and he lowered his wand. "Keep proving me right, Potter," he said. What? What does he mean?

"Snivellus…" James said, clucking his tongue in disappointment, "Why do you insist on the impossible? You being right? Thinking you can someday beat me?" Then he narrowed his eyes. "Lily?" Snape's eyes widened just a fracture then his lip curled.

"Do you ever have the slightest clue what you're talking about?" Snape asked him. What kind of question was that? Of course he did! How could he have asked such a thing when he has never once bested James at anything? "No, I suppose not."

He looked at him for a second more before pocketing his wand. Then he walked towards James. James didn't react; he didn't have to. There was no way that Snivellus could outdo James. At anything. Snape stopped right beside him, and without turning to look at him he said, "Tell me, what did Evans make of your… little stunt earlier?" And without an answer, he walked off.

It wasn't until James could barely hear the muffled footsteps of Snape that he tore off after him. He ran down the corridor before overtaking Snape and stopping right in front of the Slytherin. Snape didn't even act surprised, more like he knew James was going to come after him. That made James even more angry.

Something in his stomach bubbled up caustically, burning in him like sulfuric acid.

"You didn't give me the chance to ask you what your theory was," James said. Snape observed him emotionlessly, his eyes unreadable.

"What did the sorting hat ever say to you?" he asked evenly. James straightened reflexively, an intake of breath sounding in the silence between him and Snape.

"Why?" James asked darkly. Snape lifted his chin and stared at James as if the answer to James' question should be obvious. "Why?" he repeated.

"That's my theory," he said simply. James had had enough of the pointless banter. If Snape wasn't going to elaborate, that meant he had no theory. And if he had no theory, then he was wasting James' time. He pulled out his wand.

"Maybe I should hex you. Seal your mouth up so nobody would ever have to hear you again," James said lightly. Snape pulled out his own, gnarled wand. "Honestly, Snivellus? Think you can take me?" James chuckled a little.

They stared at each other, their wands drawn, raised leveled with each other's chests.

Snape was opening his mouth to spell a curse, James preparing himself for a counter, when Filch rounded the corner. James froze. Both he and Snape watched as Filch limped down the hall, a small lantern in his hand. He was muttering to himself and reading from a parchment, oblivious to the two boys' presences. Silently, both boys lowered their wands and crossed to a shadowed side of the hall.

Filch drew nearer, his lantern held up close to his withered, scowling face, all the while muttering to himself. James and Snape sunk deeper into the shadows, and James realized how close he was to the Slytherin. It was nauseating, but there was nothing he could do.

How despairing was it that left with the option of being discovered by Filch or cowering alongside Snivellus James picked the latter?

Utterly nauseating.

Filch was right upon them, the light of his tiny lantern threatening to expose James and Snape both when Snivellus pulled out his wand.

"Exstinguo," he intoned in a whisper. The light of Filch's oil lamp flickered and blew out.

"Wha-?! WHO'S THERE?" Filch bellowed. James could recognize an opportunity when one presented itself. He crawled out from against the wall as he felt Snape do the same. They snuck behind Filch a small distance away and then they edged along the opposite wall.

"I can hear you breathing, you know!" Filch cried, and James heard the shuffling of clothing. Then he heard the familiar scratch of a match against a coarse surface. Without delay, he ran for the stairwell, and as soon as he reached it, the light flooded the corridor once again.

Without knowing why, James turned his head around. Snape was nowhere to be seen. James kept running, skipping two to three steps at a time. Upon reaching the portrait of a sleeping, fat lady, James breathlessly shouted the password. She blinked down at him blearily and yawned.

"James? What is it now? I'm sleeping," she yawned again. James fidgeted from foot to foot hearing Filch making his way to the stairwell.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah! Just open up!" he demanded as he kept looking behind his shoulder. Why didn't he bring his invisibility cloak? Oh right… detention.

The fat lady opened her mouth in shock, her expression quite aghast. James knew that look.

"Please!" he shouted.

"I heard you!" came Filch's voice, too close for comfort.

"Please!" James repeated, more desperately.

"Oh alright!" she huffed. Then with a creak, she swung open. James didn't even wait for it to fully open before he squeezed in through the frame and crawled out of the hole. He didn't even stop running once he made it into the common room. He went strait for the stairs and to the fifth year boy's dormitories. Panic forced James to completely disregard courtesy, and he flung the door open and then slammed it shut.

Remus awoke with a start while Sirius jump and toppled over the side of his bed. Peter snoozed on.

"… James? What in the—?" Remus asked him drowsily, his eyes still closed tightly, heavy with sleep. James waited for his breath to catch up with him. "Why'd you slam the door?"

"What are you on about, Moony?" James asked, inching to his bed and then quietly crawling in.

"That noise…" Sirius grunted, climbing back into bed sleepily.

"Yeah… what was that?" James asked, looking about the room. Remus rubbed at his eyes and tried to focus on James, but they kept closing instead. Sirius, in the three second silence, had already found enough peace to fall back asleep.

"That was you," Remus said with a tired conviction.

"Moony, you were just dreaming so go back to bed," James said, pulling the covers up over his face. Remus tried to stare at James a bit longer as James could feel his friend's eyes upon him, but instead of protesting, James heard Remus rustling in his bed sheets, never saying another word. It took a minute or so, but finally Remus fell back to sleep.

James' heart continued to race with panic and relief.

That had been so close.

James burrowed his face into his mattress feeling… pathetic. It wasn't that James was afraid of getting caught (how many times have he and the Marauders been given detention?). It was just that Snape had been there. James couldn't be caught alongside Snape. His comrades Sirius, Remus, and Peter, yes! But with Snape? James had run away like a panicked child.

Pathetic.

And it had been Snape who had given them the chance to escape. While James had lost his nerve crouching next to the Slytherin, Snape had remembered that they had the use of magic against Filch. And to top it all off, James had a sneaking suspicion that Snape was feeling… triumphant. He shouldn't, though. If Filch hadn't shown up, there wasn't any way that Snape would have felt any sense of victory.

Then there was the way he had mentioned Lily…

It made something ache and fester in his chest. The thought that Lily and Snivellus were whispering to each other, no matter in anger, was a betrayal to James. Lily had said that Snape had called her out… So that meant she had obeyed his request and saw him. And in the dead of night...

James brought his knees close to his face as he curled up on his side, trying to hide how pitiful he felt under the blankets.

Snape… What had this whole night meant?

He closed his eyes and tried to numb himself. Numb the anger, the resentment, the panic, the pity…

… that unnamable emotion…

With his mind blanking, he soon found enough calmness to finally fall into a restless slumber. He dreamt of the sorting hat hopping on his head, laughing and singing, and just as James was picking up on the lyrics and was about to jump in, the hat stopped. Then it began to eat at his head. James threw it off and ran out of the dining hall. He fled to the Gryffindor tower, but just as he had reached the tower it crumbled away, and he fell into a dark abyss.

Blackness surrounded him as he plunged, but when he focused into the dark, he could see eyes and wide, slit mouths. And they were laughing at him. No, cackling at him. Screeching and screaming and cackling his demise.

He suddenly landed on a cold, stone floor. Water was everywhere. There at his hand was his invisibility cloak. He went to grab it, to cover up—to hide—when, as his hand touched it, it shot back from him. It laid still, but then it begun to raise up. Higher and higher it rose until it grew and formed into a cloaked figure of a man. The man loomed over James and laughed at him.

James woke up suddenly.

"About time you woke up," Sirius said, leaning back. James stared up at a fuzzy Sirius. He grabbed his glasses and put them on. Sirius was looking at him curiously. "You okay, mate?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" James asked, stretching.

"You're all… sweaty," Sirius replied. James felt his brow, and it was, indeed, coated in sweat.

"I'm just hot… I guess," James answered uncertainly. Sirius quirked an eyebrow.

"You guess?"

"Well, I'm not now—anymore. I must have been when I slept." He kicked off the covers and made a sound of relief. "Gotta air out!" he laughed. Sirius locked James' head between his arm and grinded his knuckles atop James' head.

"Come on. We gotta get breakfast," Sirius said, still punishing James.

"Okay!" James said at he popped his head free of Sirius' clutches. His glasses were knocked askew, so he fixed them and asked Sirius about the whereabouts of dear Moony and Peter.

"Getting breakfast," Sirius said, tossing James his jumper. "Which is where we should be." James laughed and pulled the jumper over his head. He got out of bed and was trying to find his trousers when Sirius asked him what he was doing.

"Looking for my trousers," he replied, searching under his bed.

"You're- uh… already wearing 'em."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Yeah…" They looked at each other.

"So… breakfast then?" Sirius stated, thumbing over to the door.

"Right," James said, getting to his feet.

As they walked down the Grand Staircase, Sirius looked over at James.

"I'm not going to ask why you were fully dressed," he sternly proclaimed, and James glanced at him curiously.

"Okay," and they made their way to breakfast where dear Remy had already made them both a plate. It was easy to slip into a conversation with his mates. He didn't look for Lily, but he was certain she was looking at him. He ignored her and spooned himself some porridge. Sirius and Remus soon got into an argument about vampires and whether or not they ate people's brains, and James lost himself to thought.

Why had he been sweating? He didn't remember dreaming or even falling asleep. He probably just had too many covers on while he slept. People had often told him he was hot natured.

He glanced up from the bowl of porridge he'd been staring into.

Snape was looking at him.

And not just looking, smirking.

James straightened.

"That would make them cannibals, Sirius," Remus was saying. "And vampires aren't cannibals. Right, James?" James wasn't paying attention. "Right?" James glanced over to Remus.

"If they drink blood, it's like cannibalism," Sirius stated flatly. "It amounts to the same thing."

"Technically, it doesn't."

"Isn't the whole argument incorrect?" James asked. Remus and Sirius stopped arguing and stared at him. "They're technically not human beings anymore, so they can't be cannibals," James said. He went to look over at the Slytherin table, but Snape wasn't looking at him anymore. He was talking to Sirius' younger brother, Regulus.

"I've lost interest, anyway," Sirius said, huffing back into his seat.

"Sure," Remus said disbelievingly, biting into a crunchy piece of toast.

They all fell into a conversation about Slughorn's next party all through breakfast and on their way to their first class. James, the entire time, successfully ignored Lily's blatant staring from behind, still feeling too resentful to approach or acknowledge her.

And again, James knew just who to blame.

When will Snape ever learn his lesson?

* * *

 

The library was filled with fifth year students, each table groaning under the weight of books after books. James meandered by all the little study sessions, wondering how he could have been so thick as to assume that there would be a table open just for him.

"Should we practice it, then? Later?" James heard a fifth year Hufflepuff ask.

"No, no, no! I'm not going to have hexes thrown at me just so I can practice the Shield Charm," a girl replied.

"It'll probably come up, though. William was saying that when he did his charms test last year, they told him he had to do a shield charm or he wouldn't pass," another girl whispered darkly. The two other Hufflepuffs exchanged brief glances of concern before the first girl bowed her head and consented to a secret Protego practice session.

The attempt of finding a table was proving to be more futile as James went on. Not wanting to waste time, James decided that using an abandoned classroom would suit his needs just as well as a library could.

It wasn't hard to find one either (the third floor was practically forgotten except for Charms class); James picked the less dustiest one and set to work with his books. Despite what people assumed, not everything came easy to James, and History was just one of those obstacles. James liked to think that it was really Binns' fault and not James' because how could James be expected to learn anything when the ghostly professor always put him to sleep? However, James couldn't fall behind, so there he was in an abandoned classroom with several history books scattered about him, his quill at the ready to jot down any useful information.

The light coming in from the window weakened and then darkened as time went on. James was amazed he had been able to gather so many notes in the short span of time. Three pieces of 24 inch parchment were crammed with tiny, black scrawling. He surveyed the window behind him, debating whether or not he had enough time to get a few short rides off his broom before it became too dark and decided that he did.

He summoned all his books towards him and placed them in his bag. He didn't head to the Gryffindor tower to drop off his books, rather he brought them with him to the Quidditch field not wanting to waste any time. He reached the changing rooms, stowed his books in place of the broom he retrieved, and headed out onto the field after grabbing a case filled with the Quidditch balls. He left the snitch in its tiny spot and grabbed the quaffle and the bludger. James took the quaffle in his arms, mounted his broom, and just before shooting upwards, jinxed the bludger.

He soared up and up and then he dropped the quaffle and jinxed it, too, making it fly as it were being passed between invisible players. He swerved on his broom to avoid the bludger made to fly at him and caught the quaffle as it darted back and forth in the air. He sped towards one of the three goal posts, feigned a throw to the center one and then threw it into the one on the left. The quaffle whizzed into the goalposts, stopped, shot back through towards the center of the field, and resumed its wayward bounding.

James spent the hour soaring, catching and throwing quaffles, avoiding the bludger, and having untroubled fun. The upcoming match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw would be an easy one, no doubt about that, even if their newest chaser wasn't on par with James (or anywhere near his skill level). They'd still win. McGonagall would be proud.

James landed softly on the ground, quaffle in tow, and just when the bludger neared him, he removed the jinx, and it fell to the ground with a muffled thud. He stored the equipment back in the case and then put up the case and his broom. As he left the changing room, his bag weighing heavily on his tired shoulder, Lily was waiting for him. He stopped.

"Evening, James," she greeted formally, unlatching her fingers from behind her as she stepped forward.

"Evening," James returned, shifting the strap on his shoulder to a more comfortable position.

"You always look so confident up on that broom of yours," Lily said. "Then again, you do at just about everything." James just watched her, waiting for her to get the point of this encounter. She looked at him and sighed, obviously realizing that beating around the bush was pointless.

"Listen, the upcoming trip to Hogsmeade—I was wondering if you… would want to go with me to that new shop that's just opened up? You know, the potions emporium?" At the mention of "potion," James felt a renewed surge of bitterness. Lily stared at him, her brows furrowed together.

"Can't," James said simply. Lily nodded her head slowly.

"Oh, alright then," she said, looking (dare James think it?) slightly crestfallen.

"It's just that we're all skipping the trip to practice for the Quidditch match," James explained further.

"That's right. It's coming up next week." She smiled and James felt the bitterness melt away a little. "You know it's going to be no competition," Lily stated, smirking mischievously. James smiled despite himself. The girl was just too adorable.

"The point now is to make it at least interesting for the spectators," James grinned. "But don't worry. I've been working on a few tactics that are sure to amaze even you, Evans," James told her. She laughed, her voice so light in the chilled night.

"We'll see," she giggled. She looked at the ground then, her red hair falling slightly into her face, and James had to force himself from reaching towards her and tucking it behind her ears. "I'm glad," she said quietly. James had to lean forward because he couldn't hear her so well. What had she said? She was mad? What about this time? If anything it should be James who—

"I thought you… weren't really talking to me," she said, looking up at him. James straightened reflexively and felt himself blush a little from the closeness to her face.

"What are you on about?" he asked, not looking at her.

"You've been ignoring me these last two days," she said. James didn't say anything, but he was sure Lily would take his silence as an affirmation. "I'm pretty sure I know why, though." James looked at her curiously. "You're brilliant, James," she said, her cheeks flushing, and it made James' heart speed up. "You know that. It's just that sometimes… I don't always get why you abuse your… cleverness."

James blinked stupidly.

"I know you and Sirius thought you were so funny with that prank and all, but I just won't ever understand it," she went on. James narrowed his eyes.

"Because it was Snivellus who was at the mercy of it?" James asked her, his tone even despite his frustration. She shook her head, her hair billowing slightly.

"That's not fair," she said.

"How's that not a fair question?"

"Because Snape is the only one who you do that stuff to," she said with a edge to her voice. "But I'd be upset if those things were done to anyone. Would you do pull those pranks on me?" she asked, looking at him angrily.

"You know I wouldn't ever—" James tried.

"How am I supposed to assume that?" she went on.

"Have I ever?" James retorted.

"Not yet," she said simply.

"Not yet?" James repeated unbelievingly. James sighed. Budging was the only way now to soothe Lily. "I'll admit I poke fun at others, but I wouldn't ever do them on—"

"People you like?" Lily finished flatly.

"Exactly," James said, smiling. At last, she's gotten it. But Lily's anger slipped away into a saddened expression. It confused James.

"Why would you make a point to belittle those you dislike?" she asked softly. It happened rarely (though it was occurring more frequently in the past weeks), but James was begrudging Lily's presence at the moment. Did she make a point to wait on him just so she could lecture him? And then he thought about the question Snape put to him. _What did Evans make of your… little stunt?_

"Look, Evans, it's late, and I wanna make it in time for supper," James said harshly. She looked at him, her brilliant, green eyes widening. "If this is all you came out here to say then you've wasted not only your time, but mine as well." He walked off, leaving her to stand alone.

_And to answer you question, Lils_ , James thought darkly as he made his way to the castle, _It's because I hate him so much that he deserves it._


	4. And the Victor is...

 

The roaring of the crowds could be heard just as clearly from inside the changing room as well as from the field. Hearing it excited James and made the blood rush to his head. His fingers twitched with anticipation as he gripped his broom tightly, and he danced from left leg to right leg as he waited behind his fellow teammates. The light snuck in between the cracks of the wooden door, and James tried to look out through them, his anticipation needing some kind of outlet. He saw nothing passed the light, but the crowing of the crowd reached him just fine.

"Ready?" the Gryffindor team captain, William, asked. He was a chaser like James, and this year was the last year at Hogwarts for him. That made the matches all the more important for William, and not one could be lost. He had worked James and the entire team hard through day and night. James grinned.

"Ready," he said alongside the others. The captain smiled and nodded. The look in his eyes sought victory, and James was certain that's exactly what they'd achieve. James had been practicing a lot on his own, too. There was no way they'd loose.

The captain pushed open the wooden doors just as the announcer called for the Gryffindor team, and one by one, they filed out onto the field, their heads held high and brooms by their side. James fancied the brooms like spears, and they were soldiers marching onto battle. He could be so poetic when he wanted to be, and it amused him to think like this.

His team got into position, facing Ravenclaw's team, and James felt sorry for them. Loosing so horribly would be very humiliating for them, but that was just how it was going to be. He watched as Madam Hooch, a young woman with fierce, golden eyes, stepped between the opposing teams, her hand held high.

"Ready on my mark," she announced, her voice made louder by a spell. James tensed and waited for her signal. Her hand came down with a slash and just like that, all the players mounted their brooms and kicked off with such intensity that dirt was winded up in clouds. Higher and higher James flew until he was level with the two other Gryffindor chasers. The quaffle, along with the bludger and snitch, was released into the air, and James dove down to catch it. He outstretched his fingers and scooped the ball into his arms just as a Ravenclaw chaser came to do the same. Too bad for him, though. James was always one step ahead.

He zipped to the left, swirled around a Ravenclaw beater and passed the quaffle to Amelia, the third chaser of Gryffindor, just as two Ravenclaws enclosed in on him. The crowd cheered as James abruptly stopped and the two Ravenclaws, their reflexes too slow, collided into one another. Amelia, with no one following her, whirled the quaffle into the third hoop, the Ravenclaw keeper missing it by milliseconds. James whooped with the crowd.

He circled back to the center as the Ravenclaw keeper threw the quaffle to one of his teammates. She caught it and shot off towards the Gryffindor goals. James easily kept up with the player—William on the other side of her—and together the Gryffindor chasers waited for the Ravenclaw to make her move. She was panicking, James could tell, and she looked at him as the flew closer to the hoops. He smiled charmingly.

That's when she blundered. She made to throw behind her, sensing her teammate following close behind, but she misgauged the distance. The quaffle fell just short, but William fell back and retrieved it easily enough. James veered to the right and pulled upwards. A bludger came from behind the bleachers and missed James narrowly. The Ravenclaw girl, unfortunately, never saw it coming. It crashed into the tail of her broom and sent her spiraling out of control. James hesitated for just a moment, but she regained control just before hitting the ground.

James watched as William made to pass the quaffle on towards Amelia, but a Ravenclaw chaser intercepted it. James inwardly cursed and shot off towards the Ravenclaw. Just as James was overtaking him, the Ravenclaw released the quaffle and it was caught by the girl. Without delay, she whizzed it towards the Gryffindor goalpost. James held his breath as Thomas, their keeper, caught the quaffle by the tips of his fingers. James threw his hand up in the air and took possession of the quaffle as Thomas threw it over to him.

All the while, the announcer, a Hufflepuff whose voice was too timid over the clamoring of the crowds, followed the game with precise detail. The game was 36 to 4 in favor of Gryffindor. The snitch still hadn't been found which was fine for James. He could do this all day. He wanted to utterly annihilate his opponents, and thought he could earn a few more points for Gryffindor.

Currently, William was in possession of the quaffle. He threw it to James, and just as quickly as James had caught it, he sent it flying back to William. As they sped forward, they exchanged the quaffle back and forth between them with such speed, they Ravenclaw chasers that flew around them had no hope of catching it. As they neared the hoops, the Ravenclaw keeper flew this way and that, trying to guard all his goalposts, but James and William had practiced this move far too many times.

William feigned a throw into the far left hoop and the keeper sped towards it. He realized too late that the quaffle had been given to James and had no time to get to the far right post as James hurled it through the unprotected hoop. Another point for Gryffindor!

Readying himself for another onslaught, the announcer shouted out that the Gryffindor seeker, Jourdan, had spotted the snitch. This was the last chance for James to score another point before Jourdan ended the game. Once he found the snitch, there was no way the golden ball was going to escape him.

James followed behind the Ravenclaw chaser who held the quaffle close to his body. A bludger was hit towards James, and he had to stop to avoid it. The Ravenclaw looked behind his shoulder and smirked. James didn't know why he did. Ravenclaw was down by at least thirty points, and Jourdan was on his merry way to assuring Gryffindor's victor. But the smirk irritated James nonetheless. Not wanting to be outdone by the Ravenclaw, he leaned in close to his broom and shot off with such speed, the resistance threatened to knock his glasses off.

In a second, James was right alongside the Ravenclaw. He blinked at James stupidly. James cut in front of the boy, forcing the chaser to stop dead in his tracks. Amelia, dove down from above and knocked the quaffle right out of the boy's arms. William, who had been circling below, caught it, and he threw it towards the Ravenclaw hoops just as Jourdan's hands clasped over the snitch. The quaffle soared threw without being caught, and Gryffindor earned another point just as Jourdan caught the snitch.

The crowd, minus the Ravenclaws and Slytherins, let out such a ferocious roar, James imagined his head was thrumming from it. He landed on the ground softly, feeling light headed. William was crying out and slapping each of his teammates across the back. James easily avoid the thunder of Williams slap by slipping off unnoticed. The crowds spilled off from the bleachers and unto the field (again, minus the Slytherins). As he walked away from the flood of people, he noticed Lily. He could spot her just as easily as he could spot the sun. It was natural for him, instinctual even, for him to seek her out, no matter how angry he was with her.

Lily ran towards Amelia, and they cheered together, clasping hands and laughing joyously. William came behind them and scooped Amelia into him in a tight hug. He watched as Lily went to Jourdan, congratulated Scott and Michael, watched as she turned this way and that, looking for him—for James. Finally, she spotted him, her eyes locking with his. Across the field, they acknowledged one another. She bowed her head, and he responded in the like. She smiled, but that, James found, he couldn't return.

He turned on his heel and headed toward the changing room. William and the others wouldn't be back for awhile. This was their first victory of the year—their first of many, because they would win all of them. And the most important one was Gryffindor verses Slytherin. It would certainly be the most challenging; the Slytherin team was just as skilled as they were brutal, and Merlin, were they brutal.

James smiled to himself as he slipped off his quidditch robes. The cheering of the crowds could still be heard, and James found he was strangely excited for the match against Slytherin, but that wouldn't be until the year was near over. Could he wait that long?

There came a rapping on the door, but Sirius didn't need an invite. James' best mate strolled on in, his eyes alight with mischief.

"Oh no," James sighed, struggling with his Quidditch boots. Why did he always laced them up so tightly? "I know that look." Sirius' smile broadened, and he flopped down beside James.

"I haven't seen you since yesterday," Sirius said. James kept his eyes on his boots, and he hooked his fingers under the laces to loosen them.

"That's what happened when a Quidditch match comes up," James said.

"Yeah, but I haven't had the opportunity to tell you the news," Sirius said, reclining back into the wall. James peeked over at him.

"Hence why you're here," he said finally tugging the boot off.

"While you were busy with Quidditch..." and Sirius made a sour face. James threw his boot at him, but Sirius deflected it easily.

"While I was busy with Quidditch…" James said for him.

"I was busy with Moore." He waggled his brows, and James stared at him stupidly for a moment waiting for more. When he understood, he leapt up, half dressed and with one boot on, and pointed at Sirius.

"You didn't!" he exclaimed. Sirius laughed and then leaned in, smirking arrogantly. "No, no, no—No you did not!" James shouted.

"Why do you doubt me?" Sirius asked, blithely throwing a found snitch up in the air and catching it.

"Because… I can't believe she did—with you!" James said, running a hand through his still sweat-drenched hair. "When did you—?" James trailed. Sirius quirked an eyebrow. "Oh right, right. While I was busy with Quidditch." James opened and closed his mouth several times, not knowing how to formulate the question, and he was certain he looked like a gaping fish. "How?" he finally, and poignantly, phrased.

"James, I know you're inexperienced and all, but I thought you had the fundamentals down," Sirius said, shaking his head.

"No, you prat. How did you… woo her?" he asked, feeling his cheeks go red.

"Woo? What are we—from Dumbledore's time?" Sirius asked, chuckling.

"Do you even know what time that is?" James bit back.

"In the long ago time," Sirius laughed.

"Stop changing the subject." Sirius stopped laughing and reclined back, shrugging his shoulders.

"I knew she liked me," he said coolly.

"So you… went after her?" James asked. Sirius never committed to any of his little flings, but to go after a girl just because she liked him... Knowing she probably would… go that far even with him just didn't sit right with James.

"No… not exactly. To be honest, and this is going to sting at my pride so keep your smugness to yourself—I think she thinks it will… up her status," Sirius said, furrowing his brows. "I'm her ladder." James looked at him flatly then burst out laughing. "I told you to not do that," Sirius sighed.

"I'm sorry—" James wheezed, waving his hand dismissively.

"You're really not, but that's fine," Sirius said, watching without amusement.

"It's just… why be with her then? Knowing that?" James asked, flopping back down unto the bench, deciding he really should get dressed.

"We all can't have the beautiful relationship that you and Evans have. Such intensity," Sirius said mockingly. James screwed his face up into resentment. Sirius sighed and shrugged his shoulders again. "When it's good, it's good." James shook his head, finally freeing his other foot from the boot.

"And that's really what you came in here to tell me," James said disbelievingly. He expected a reply, a sarcastic remark, but Sirius remained silent. James looked up. Sirius was looking off to the side, his face set into concentration.

"Wha-?" James worded.

"I have to go home for Christmas," Sirius said quietly.

"Yeah… Don't we all? You'll be coming back with me, naturally," James said, stuffing his gear into the locker.

"No, mate," Sirius huffed. "I got a letter." James rolled his eyes.

"What a coincidence. I'm known to get a few of those myself," James stated flatly. Sirius smiled, but it was one of those small, pitying kinds. They never suited Sirius' handsome face, but they were known to make an appearance now and again. James did like this—didn't like Sirius being vague. He should know better—should know there was never a reason to not be straightforward.

"I'm just telling you now that I can't go home with you for the holidays. I have to go back…there," he spat contemptuously. James exhaled wearily.

"Why does this year matter? I thought they didn't mind me so much," James said, buttoning up his shirt.

"Well, the previous years Regulus was never being initiated," Sirius replied. James bolted upright.

"Are you joking? He's being initiated? At age fourteen? Are your parents mad?"

"Roving mad, unfortunately," Sirius smiled darkly.

"I guess that means they've… given up on you, then?" James ventured. Sirius shook his head.

"Not exactly. It's probably another one of their schemes to make me realize all the errors of my ways."

"You think they're trying to make you jealous—of Regulus?" James set back against the lockers. It may be awful of him to think it, but if Regulus was initiated into the inner ring of the Black family, then maybe they'd al leave Sirius alone. That way, Sirius wouldn't ever have to worry about them again—any of them.

"It's just… Dammit! He's fourteen!" Sirius exclaimed. James watched his friend leap up and pace the floor. "And he tries so hard to not be like me. I don't even think he wants all that… that…" but Sirius was fumbling, so James delicately offered the words:

"...Dark Art-loving, Pureblood-fanatic zealotry?" Sirius stopped and stared at James.

"Yes, that," he agreed. James shook his head.

"I hate to say it, but I'm sure it isn't easy… being your brother," James said quietly. Sirius bit his bottom lip.

"Well, it's not easy being their son," he barked back.

"I know. And you're just looking out for him," James offered. Sirius shook his head slowly.

"No, I'm not," he whispered harshly. "I'm glad they've picked him." Sirius was balling his hands up into tight fists. James got up worriedly and strode over to Sirius. He reached out a hand, realizing that Sirius was shaking slightly, but he hesitated. What could he say, really? If in Sirius' shoes—If he had been raised in that kind of family—James let his hand drop to his side limply.

"I am, too."

"Merlin! There you two are!" came a voice in the locker room doorway. James glanced over to see Peter. He didn't feel like saying hello. "Come on. Everyone's wanting to throw a party, and they can't when the one it's for isn't there!" Peter said breathlessly, face flushed, like he had been the one to volunteer to go find James and had probably run all over the entire school looking for him. Sirius pushed James back.

"How long does it take you to pamper yourself up?" Sirius asked. James was speechless for a moment, but then he realized his friend just didn't want to say anymore right then and there.

"You're the only tart around here," James quipped back, throwing over his jumper. Sirius grinned, and James returned the smile. Peter followed behind them looking back and forth between the two, probably wondering what the tit and tat had been about, so James explained to him that Sirius was a renowned whore looking for credibility and meaning in life by traversing the world in search of willful virgins. Sirius smacked him against the back of his head. The truth hurt sometimes, it seemed.

* * *

 

The party tired James out more than he would have thought. Peter had pulled out some Dr. Filibuster's Fireworks. Sirius had brought out his secret stash of butterbeer. Remus had snuck an old radio out from nowhere, and so there was a lot of explosions blasting over a badly sung rendition of The Calypsos' recent hit 'Captured in My Siren Song' by a bunch of drunken students. James' stamina had been virtually sucked away. He crashed onto his four poster bed exhausted.

Some of the students were still up, but they were the older students, kids that James didn't know too well but were probably out for the butterbeer. It was surprisingly easy to ignore the noise and drift off to sleep. However, it was another thing entirely to ignore Moony's constant nudging.

"What?" James grumbled into his pillow.

"Lily wants you," Remus said quietly. James mumbled that he didn't care, but Moony obviously didn't hear him because he kept repeating James' name.

"I heard!" James finally shouted, raising is head up and blearily glaring at his friend. Remus stepped back looking frazzled. "Sorry…" James grunted. Damn Remus for making James feel guilty.

"Sorry, mate. It's just… she's more pushy than you are. Telling her no is like telling water to be dirt," Remus explained quietly.

"Thank Merlin we have the use of magic to rectify such obstacles," James yawned, sitting up and stretching. He had been so close to falling asleep.

"Firstly, I said _telling_ it to be dirt, not _spelling_ it into something else. And secondly—Are you mad? Hex Lily? I'll never see the light of day again," Remus explained, shuddering at the thought. James squinted at him.

"You use to be scared of me. You used to do as you were told," James said tight lipped.

"Mum's much scarier than father is," Remus smiled. "And that was never true," he added hastily. James nodded his head noncommittally.

"Did she say what she wanted?" James dared to ask. Remus shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. James nodded his head. "Alright, alright. I'm so tired…" he whined as he got up and headed to the door.

"Did you and her—Are you two fighting? Again?" Remus asked. James stopped and turned his head to smile at his friend.

"Of course not," he replied, and then he made his way down the steps where Lily was already waiting for him. James cursed inwardly. How can he be expected to wittily respond to her when he could barely keep his eyes open? What could be so urgent that she had to request him out of bed? "You summoned me?" James asked, stopping in front of her. Lily opened her mouth to speak but looked around her. There were still a lot of older students up. If she was worried about being overheard, she shouldn't be. All of them were so drunk that they wouldn't be able to tell a pixie from a pumpkin. And why was she concerned about being heard? Merlin!

"Let's go somewhere else," she whispered at him.

"By all means. I'm sure the girls' dormitories are quiet enough," James suggested. Her mouth grew tight, but instead of replying, she just grabbed his sleeve and pulled him towards the back of the room, far away from the others. Merlin, he was tired. "If your going to lash out at me, I'm too tired to comprehend it or care," James said harshly.

"I know. I'm sorry," she said softly. Well, that was unexpected. "It's just… Slughorn's party—He sent me an invitation—You knows it's tomorrow right?" she asked. James nodded his heavy head up and down very slowly, not having enough energy to reply. "Right, listen. I was wondering—Allen asked me to go with him—"

"What?" James asked deadpanned. She furrowed her brows and pulled at the hem of her jumper.

"Yeah, he asked me to attend it with him. He's awfully pushy. I've told him no a million times—"

"Good."

"—but he keeps asking anyway." James' head was reeling. Sleep was pounding at the back of his skull, making his eyes hurt and his brain fuzzy, but he still had enough consciousness left in him to be jealous.

"So keep telling him no," James demanded, though to Lily it probably sounded like he was merely agreeing with her just to agree with her. Not because he wanted to find Allen and hex him for even thinking of asking his Lily out to any sort of… event… thing.

"Yes because that's obviously been going over well so far," she quipped.

"Why am I here?" James asked, leaning against the wall for support.

"Because, I… I know you're mad at me—I know that—It's just… will you go… with me instead?" she asked softly. James was thinking of what a feathery pillow underneath his head would feel like when his brain could finally work out exactly what Lily had just asked of him. He snapped his head in her direction and stared at her pointedly. Upon his reaction, Lily blushed profusely.

"Okay," he said evenly as he congratulated himself on reacting so calmly though his head was spinning and his chest was heaving. She looked at him dubiously, which James didn't know why, and then she gave him a small smile.

"Alright then. Um… thanks, I guess," she said, twirling her long, red hair around her finger absentmindedly.

"It's a huge inconvenience for me, really, but I figured being a Gryffindor means being gracious. I have to earn my namesake," he smiled, his heart pounding. She giggled girlishly which made James grin even more.

"I'm honored I could be of service," she laughed. "Well, I suppose I'll let you get back to your sleeping," she said, taking a few steps backwards.

"My, how fair the lady is," James smiled, bowing low. She gave a curtsey, and with a last _'thank-you'_ , she left for bed herself. James watched her leave, rooted to the spot because so many things had just happened, all while he was asleep… practically. But it had been better than a dream. He smiled, feeling victorious, though he didn't exactly know why. He should, by all accounts, still be quite angry with Lily, but as she disappeared from his view, he found he wasn't. Happily and clumsily, he climbed the stairs back to his dormitory and crashed atop his bed and fell into a sound sleep.

"For the love of—Wake up!"

James was sent crashing onto the floor, but being the heavy sleeper that he was, it took him a whole two minutes to wake up and another minute to comprehend how he came to be on the floor. Once comprehension set in, he blearily glared up at a peevish Sirius.

"I can curse you, you know," James groggily threatened.

"You're the one already shriveled on the floor," Sirius threw back effortlessly. James tried to wield his sluggish thoughts into a pointed repartee, but sleep had unarmed him. Sirius quirked an eyebrow, an expression James had enough to sense to know meant, 'anything _you say at this point is useless since you took so damn long'_.

"Well, damn you," James said anyway. He heaved himself off the floor and stared about him. It was then he noticed the horrific situation he'd just be placed in. He whipped in the direction of Sirius who looked as if he'd already expected such a reaction. "What… is that?" James spat, pointing to the window. Sirius gave a bored stare out the window and responded with equal disinterest.

"It's the outside."

James gritted his teeth. "Yes, and what color is the outside?" he seethed.

"Pink."

"Bravo. But I suppose you forgot that pink is code for: Way too fucking early!" James shouted, throwing his hands up into the air in a fit of disbelief. Everyone else was gone, but Remus and Peter were always early risers. Not James. No way.

"No, I remembered," Sirius said blandly.

"Oh, okay. Just as long as we're clear that you're obviously barking mad," James said tiredly as he sidled up to his bed in an attempt to reclaim his stolen sleep. But as his knee hit the soft, inviting surface of his bed, he was yanked back by Sirius.

"Sorry, mate, but you've got to get up," Sirius said.

"What is wrong with you? You know I—" James began to say, but as he turned around he caught the expression on Sirius' face before it disappeared into nothing.

"Look, normally I wouldn't wake you up, but something's happened…" Sirius started hesitantly.

"What is it?" James asked, turning around to face his friend fully. Sirius paused, searching for what James thought would be the right words. He must have given up on explaining linguistically and instead brought out a crumbled piece of parchment. _Oh boy_ , James thought, taking the letter in his hand. He looked at Sirius briefly, making sure it was what Sirius wanted, before reading the contents. Within two sentences in, James already felt his blood flare up into a heated rage. A paragraph in and he wanted to burn the letter. Another two read through and he wanted to find the sender and incinerate them instead. By the end of it, James' hands were visibly shaking with the rage he felt trembling inside.

"Are they fucking full of it?" James angrily asked Sirius. Surprisingly, Sirius smiled at him softly.

"Wow," Sirius whistled, impressed. "I wasn't even that mad when I read it."

"Yeah, well, you didn't have someone build up the suspense," James retorted, throwing the disgusting letter back at Sirius. Sirius took it, looked at it as if he, too, was considering burning it, but then pocketed it instead.

"So…?" Sirius ventured, looking at James sheepishly. James was shaking his head back and forth.

"It's unbelievable—Inconceivable! Of all the fucking dumb things they could do!" James was spitting out rapidly. "To send you to Durmstrang? Really? Really?" Sirius trudged over to the nearest bed and plopped down on it.

"I wouldn't have woken you up, but as you read…" Sirius began.

"—they're heading over here today to talk to the Headmaster," James bravely finished for him. Sirius gave a half smirk that did nothing to relieve James of his panic. How could they do this to Sirius? To him? Break up their diabolical duo? Sirius was his best mate! Sure he liked Remus, and Peter was growing on him, but Sirius was his closest friend! His brother...

James mindlessly walked over to Sirius and sat down next to him.

"What're we going to do?" Sirius asked him. James' mind was already teeming with a myriad ideas on how to keep Sirius at Hogwarts, but most of them involved eliminating Sirius' stupid family altogether. Also, none of them were legal.

"Dumbledore won't let them do such a stupid thing," James said in an attempt at bravado. Sirius snorted exasperatedly.

"I think parent trumps Headmaster."

"Yeah, but Dumbledore has "the gift"," James said., and it was true. The man seemed to have the uncanny (and often times, annoying) ability to talk someone into doing anything. _Like admitting one's guilt_ , James thought, remembering all the times that Dumbledore, with little more than three words and a watery blue stare, had somehow compelled the Marauders to confess to their crimes.

"I think that only works on you," Sirius said, kicking the bed.

"Well, we could always lose you in the Forbidden Forest. Won't guarantee I'll ever find you again, but at least you won't be with them," James replied.

"You are useless to me this early in the morning," Sirius said morosely.

"That's not fair! Just give me a few minutes…" and he lost himself in thoughts of how to rectify this debauchery. He wasn't very good at staying on track, though, because he kept going back to thoughts of how much he hated Sirius' family.

"Thought of anything yet?" Sirius asked him. James looked over at him, feeling a pang of guilt. Nothing. He had nothing. Here was his best mate about to shipped off and away, and James could think of nothing! Sirius was right. He was completely useless.

"I suppose Regulus is going too?" James asked, in hopes of stalling for time.

"Why do you think they're moving me in the first place? It's so their conniving Castor can realize his true potential," Sirius darkly replied.

"But why now?"

"Why not now? The sooner the better, right?"

"Quit saying it like that," James said quietly.

"Like what?"

"Like it's final." James didn't want to be overly dramatic, but he really didn't know how he'd get on with Sirius no longer at Hogwarts. Who'd share in his mischief? Remus certainly wouldn't, and Peter could never match James' cleverness like Sirius could.

"Well, when the time comes, just throw me one hell of a bon voyage-party, alright?" Sirius said, slapping James across the back. Sirius gave a grin, his trademark grin, and stood to leave. James sat a moment longer.

"Hey…" James began, his mind whirling with a sudden barrage of thoughts. Sirius stopped and turned around. "What if… and bare with me here—What if we make Hogwarts more… appealing to your parents?" James put forth.

"I don't understand," Sirius replied, looking at James perplexed.

"It may be stupid—It probably is—But your parents admire themselves on pureblood and what not. Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but doesn't Hogwarts have the longest history of teaching those pureblood families?" He was looking at Sirius animatedly, leaning forward off the bed in his excitement.

"Go on," Sirius said, still not following.

"That's just it, though! We have to really bullshit your parents into believing that Hogwarts is the place to raise charming, little, snot-face purebloods. And if Regulus is going to take over, wouldn't they want the influences of… of—What's that git's name again? Ah… Lu—Lucus…?"

"Lucius?" Sirius offered.

James snapped his fingers. "Yeah, that's the prat! Anyway, don't they want their precious heir to establish ties with a family like the Malfoys?"

"I don't know, mate. This seems awfully far-fetched," Sirius trailed.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. But can't it work for now? Or incase we can't think of anything better?" James said.

"I guess it's something, right?" Sirius offered hopefully.

"It's something."

"Something's better than nothing..." Sirius stood there, looking as if he was pondering it further. James couldn't help but think that it was their best option (besides having Dumbledore spell the Blacks into keeping Sirius at Hogwarts—which James knew he could do) because what else was James and Sirius better at than lying? There were a few things that came in close second, but at the moment, James and Sirius were masters at deception. "Anyway, I'm hungry and they'll be here soon, and I at least want something in my stomach..." Sirius said, striding towards the door.

"Why's that?" James asked, and Sirius turned in the doorway.

"That way when I get to the point when they really make me sick with anger, I'll have something to throw back at them," he said simply. James thought about such a scene and hopped off the bed, trotting behind Sirius.

"My, how eloquently put, my friend."

* * *

 

They had waited all day for the bastards to show their faces, but when had they decided to come? When James had already made plans to attend a stupid bash with Lily! Merlin, the bastards! And now, as he walked into the crowded office of Slughorn's, he already felt himself distancing himself from the rest of the students attending the gala. Sirius, who was also invited, declined last minute to go, wanting instead to hang around Dumbledore's office where his parents were currently shut in. That left James to fret alone.

Lily was smiling and greeting some of the others as they arrived, but James was too preoccupied to notice anyone. He thought he managed a grunt at someone, but he couldn't be sure. Lily, in between saying hullo to someone, glared at James, most likely ashamed by his behavior.

"What's your problem?" she asked him quietly. James looked down at her.

"Nothing," he said, shrugging. Lily looked ready to snap back when she looked past James' shoulder and froze. Then she grabbed James' arm and pulled him off across the room. "Now it's my turn to ask—What's your problem?" he said as he was swept along.

"Allen just got here," Lily said agitatedly.

"Merlin, you really don't like him, do you?" James asked after the tugging had ceased.

"Of course not. He's annoying," Lily said dismissively. James turned his head and glanced over his shoulder. Allen was a tall fellow, taller than James even (and annoyingly so), and of stout build with a crop of brown hair atop his squared face. James couldn't blame Lily for her disinterest—James got the sense that if Allen spoke, the language would be broken and guttural… Troll-ish— but she didn't have to put it so… apathetically.

"Poor bloke," James said.

"Really? The rare time you're sympathetic, and it's towards Allen?" Lily asked disbelievingly.

"Why not Allen?" James asked curiously. Lily stared at James for a moment, her green eyes unblinking, but if James was supposed to read some message within their reflection, then they were speaking another language. James remained blank. She sighed.

"I don't get you sometimes," she said, shaking her head. "Look, there's Remus," she said nodding off behind James. "I'm gonna go say hullo."

"Can't you do it from here?" James asked. Why was she all round up tight? She wasn't the one who was having a friend expatriated. James didn't even want to come to this stupid party. Nothing exciting ever happened—Not unless he or Sirius started it, anyway—and James wasn't in much of an instigating mood. She should be more grateful, really. He did come for her after all.

"No," she said evenly, "because that would be impolite." James got the feeling that she was trying to accuse James of rudeness, but he didn't even have enough time to say anything before she had stepped around him, leaving behind only the faint smell of her shampoo. Fine. He hadn't want to be here anyway. Slughorn's "gatherings" were always a snob-fest anyway. Slughorn was infamous for showing favoritism towards those he thought were exceptional in some capacity, and every month he'd gather those students and throw a party. James had yet to figure out why Slughorn had this particular trait, but that was generally because he couldn't be bothered to care long enough to figure it out.

Before James could leave, sadly, said bastard came strutting up to him.

"James! Glad to see ya've made it!" he cried, slapping James across the back three times. "I see you came with Miss Evans," he whispered, leaning in close and giving James a wink. _Yes you lewd reptile_ , James thought as he put on a false smile. _I did come with Lily, and now I'm leaving_.

"Yes, well, I wish I could stay longer, but I'm afraid I still have a few more essays to complete before curfew," James smiled. He didn't know why, but he had never particularly liked Slughorn. Maybe it was because the man was too familiar with everyone. Or maybe it was because he was Head of Slytherin. Either way, the man annoyed James.

"Oh, tish tosh! I know you've got them all squared away," Slughorn laughed, cupping James on the shoulder. "Now don't lie to this old bean—It's the gathering, isn't it?" Slughorn asked, squinting around the students congregating in his office. "Yes… not the most exciting bunch, but you and Black usually liven it up," and then as if noticing the absence of James' comrade, he looked surprised. "Where is Mr. Black?" James wanted to tell the slug that Sirius was damn sick and tired of his boring parties, but instead, James flashed another one of his disarming smiles.

"Oh, afraid he's not feeling too well. Me and a couple of others dared him to eat a whole packet of Belch Powder and… he did. Course now he's wallowing in bed, but he made a pretty galleon off of it, so I don't think he'll be complaining too much in the morning," James lied. Slughorn burstedwith laughter, leaning heavily on James, for his hand was still on James' shoulder.

"Oh, young boys will be boys," he chortled. Merlin, this was nauseating. Could no one think of a better response than that tired line? How about, "Why are you lot so stupid?" That may elicit more of a response out of him instead of the fake grin James gave his professor.

"Hopefully always, sir," he replied.

"Ho ho! Yes, yes, yes… Well, then I won't keep you," Slughorn said, and just as soon as he had finished vocalizing the phrase, he dismissed James entirely and went to chat up Irvin Ostheim, a nebbish Ravenclaw who continuously received perfect marks, but could the boy form a comprehensible, fluid sentence? No.

Not wasting another second to get out of the crowded office, James made for the door, but as he was almost at it's threshold, he turned instinctively towards Lily. He stopped. She was giggling. Not only was she giggling, but she was twirling her hair around her slender finger. And who was it that was obviously flirting with her? None other than Allen.

But as James stared on at the scene, he wondered why he wasn't more angry. Curious still was why he felt so unsurprised. _Maybe if you hadn't been such a bastard earlier_ , said a voice in his mind, but James shook his head. No. That wasn't it at all. With that, he left.

He stepped outside and already felt more relaxed. He hadn't realized how tense he had been. Of course, it was completely because he still hadn't heard from Sirius. He should check up on him now—go wait alongside with him…

"How strange," a voice spoke. James stopped reflexively, years of that tone had instilled that into him. He looked up to find Snape leaning against the wall opposite of him.

"What's the matter, Snivelly? Not invited to the party?" James asked blandly. He really wasn't in the mood for this either. The Slytherin stared at him before glancing off to the side, to nowhere in particular.

"Oh no, I was," he said evenly, simply. James hated the staccato way in which the git spoke.

"I can see that. Tell me, when does lurking outside the party count as actually attending?"

"Then how about you?"

"Left on my own accord," James replied, bored by this blasé exchange.

"Of course you did. I see your side-kick is absent," Snape put snidely. "I wonder why." James felt himself tense, but he couldn't let Snivelly see that.

"I'm flattered that you obviously think of me as the leader," James said, smiling.

"Of course you are," Snape replied. Well, James hadn't been expecting that. "But tell me, will you for much longer?" He stared at James jeeringly. James knew it was a taunt, and he could never understand why Snape cornered himself like this. When had he ever won a quarrel? Won anything? Then again, Snape was saying things that were annoying James more so than usual, and he didn't like the way Snape was so pompously saying them.

"Don't worry, Snivelly. You will forever remain my disparaged subject," James said kindly. Gleefully, James noticed a spark of hatred flash within the git's black eyes. Such success always riled him more; it was why James sometimes took things too far. It was the rush of it all.

"Because you force me to be," Snape said, seething, "and I have to wonder why that is."

"Please, don't flatter yourself with whatever poppycock you're envisioning in that twisted mind of yours," James said.

"No, I assure you that's a role you've superimposed on me… all by your own volition," Snape bit back.

"That's exactly the crap I told you not to give validity to," James sighed.

"Then what is it?" Snape asked evenly. James faltered. What was what? In the minute seconds it took for James to work that out, Snape was smirking. "Like I said… How strange." By this point, James was no longer comprehending the babble that was spewing out of the slimy git's mouth, so he needed clarification.

"By all means, Snivelly. Enlighten me," he said, jaded.

"Did you not come here with Evans?" he asked.

"My god, man! How do you ever sleep when you're obviously stalking the poor girl all the time?"

"And you left without her," Snape added, skirting James entirely. James stared at him blandly, waiting for whatever point the Slytherin was having such a hard time conveying. "Tell me, is it any guy that talks to Evans that sends you over the edge," and Snape's eyes tapered, "or is it just when it's me?"

What?

"Oh but…"—and he looked into the room where Lily was so plainly visible, still giggling shyly beside the brutish Allen—"… looks like it's not the first choice."

"What are you saying?" James regretfully asked. Snape's hollowed, black eyes glinted with a triumph James could not decipher.

"Just wondering what threat I am to you."

And with that, he left James. Walked off while James—James!—was rooted to the ground—was left hanging on his insult, working through the onslaught of rage that ensued—was left feeling like a… a…

… fucking bastard.

"Threat?" James snorted into the quiet outside the gregarious party behind him, his blood racing throughout him in heated, powerful pulses. He chuckled to himself, but it was weak. He ran a hand through his hair and gave another snort of affected haughtiness for good measure before setting of towards Dumbledore's office.

 _I assure you, Snape_ , James thought darkly as he headed up the steps that would take him to the second floor, _you are no threat to me—of no consequence even._ But as he reached the top step and walked along the corridor, he couldn't reel in his… What was it he felt? Anger? Annoyance? No…

However, as he turned the corner and as his wearied friend came into view sitting outside of the Headmaster's office, he knew what to name that feeling that reverberated so strongly underneath his calming exterior, and he didn't like it one bit.

James Potter was feeling… defeated.


	5. Unforeseen

"So what's the verdict?" James voiced as he came to a halt beside his friend. Sirius acknowledged James' sudden appearance with a peripheral glance and a slight nod of the head. James smiled encouragingly, but Sirius had already looked away, cradling his head in his hands.

"There is no verdict yet," Sirius grumbled dejectedly.

"You're kidding!" James exclaimed, genuinely shocked. He thought about taking a seat next to Sirius, but when he walked over to sit, he found that his legs would not bend. So he remained standing.

Sirius gave an exasperated huff. "We're talking about my parents, James. And Dumbledore," he bit out. "For every calculated, derisive statement my parents make, there'll be Dumbledore— a man with all the time in the world who's responses are as long as you and I have been alive." James gave a small smile though his friend didn't see. He was only happy that even in a moment like this, his friend had enough good sense for the sarcasm.

"Well… how long have they been there?" James asked, looking over at the entrance to Dumbledore's office marked by a statue of a gargoyle.

"Dunno… How long we're you at the party?" Sirius inquired. James' body stiffened slightly as that conjured up the unfortunate encounter with Snivellus.

"Um… about an hour," James mumbled. Sirius' head shot up.

"You were only there for an hour?" he asked, dumbfounded.

"Yeah… Slughorn's parties… always such a bore," James lied.

"Well that's because I wasn't there," Sirius said. "But…" and he looked to James curiously, "—that party started at five o'clock." He looked at James as if he was mistaken. "Did you go there at five?" he asked. James sighed.

"Yeah… and I left about an hour after it started."

"Okay—but why?" James knew his friend was just seeking a distraction, but he really wished that Sirius would just concentrate on the really important matters at hand. Sirius' possible leaving was way more worrisome than…

… _than what that Slytherin scum said to you_.

James ran a hand through his hair and finally sat down, feeling deflated. "I was sick of seeing Lily dancing with that prat Allen," he lied, effortlessly. Sirius gawked at him. "What?" James demanded, not understanding his friends' amused befuddlement.

"No, I'm sorry. I'm still confused. Since when does something like that stop you from doing anything with Lily? She's got loads of guys goin' after her all the time… Hell, mate! I'd go after her," Sirius grinned.

"Watch it, _mate_ , or I'll curse you where you stand—" and James surveyed him, "—figuratively, that is."

"Wait? You'll figuratively curse me, or—"

"Just shut it," James cut in, elbowing Sirius in the ribs. Just as Sirius was going to open his mouth for retaliation, the gargoyle to Dumbledore's office came to life and leapt aside. James didn't know if it was instinct or just dammed good rigged reflexives, but the two of the them were up on their feet before the gargoyle even landed.

"Oh fuck…" James heard Sirius mutter nervously, and he couldn't deny that he felt the same way. Even though it was Sirius who would potentially leave, this whole situation still affected James, too. He studied the newly appeared opening…

And then Sirius' parents emerged.

It was always… strange—seeing them. It always seemed to James that the Blacks came from another world, and being that wizards lived in a world unto themselves, what did that make Sirius' family? Stupid thoughts like 'aliens' and 'extra-time dimensional travelers' came to mind— fantastical and wild ideas James had read about in Muggle books that when applied to the Blacks, seemed to make perfect sense. But that was fantasy.

No, the members of the Black family—and hell! Most other dark, pure-blood families—just lived like that. Separate from an already isolated world. Their customs, their manners, their beliefs—All were foreign to him, but still… James knew one thing—that he wanted none of it for Sirius.

Sirius stepped up to them, his face the very picture of composure, and James was amazed. He knew that his own expression was displaying nothing but the mistrust and hatred he held for them. He believed they deserved nothing less. But they weren't looking at him, so it didn't matter. Their smug countenances were trained on their son.

No words were spoken. No words were needed. James found that he, too, could decipher the silence, and he didn't like the answer. At all.

Sirius' fists balled up, shaking slightly at his side. He shut his eyes tightly, gritting his teeth, and James knew his friend was doing everything he could to contain the anger surging within him. Secretly, James wished his friend would unleash the ferocity and bare his fangs. James was just conceited enough to think that if a fight was initiated, he'd do anything to take the smug bastards down.

But James also knew that that was what the Blacks wanted. Sirius' anger would be a sign of weakness… Defeat. But they didn't know Sirius like James did.

Sirius held it in for a full five seconds and then released it all in one shaky breath.

After that, Sirius' father didn't even look at him, even when he passed him by and almost grazed his shoulder. Sirius' mother, however, smiled darkly. Just like a creep, James thought.

"Send our greetings to Regulus," she said—more like demanded, actually. James felt his fingers twitch, and he actually contemplated whether or not to brandish his wand and take on the old bitch. But like his friend, James stayed his hand. Sirius, in response, tilted his head, his eyes never wavering from hers.

Then they were gone.

James and Sirius stayed as they were for awhile. James was thinking of all the ways he had truly wished that scene to have gone—It involved the body-binding curse and that abandoned broom closet that had a nasty way of loosing people entirely— while he was sure Sirius was running through the implications of the night's meeting.

"After Christmas break, mate." That was all Sirius said—all he could say. James tilted his head back and fixed his eyes on the ceiling, like somehow if he stared at the cracked stones above an answer would suddenly appear before his eyes that would solve everything. Like hell it did, though.

"It won't happen," James said back. His voice didn't even sound like his own. It was a whisper of thing, something thin that strung out words that no true promise could bind itself to.

"Yeah… I thought we said that earlier and… well?" Sirius looked over at him, shrugging his shoulder, smiling faintly. And James' head snapped back to its proper position, and he stared at his friend… feeling lanced through.

Damn, he thought, and something in his throat burned and clamped the air out. He'd never seen Sirius look that beaten. Never seen the blue eyes so dark.

He'd never seen the trace veil of tears within them either.

Damn.

* * *

 

"So it's true then?"

James looked over at Remus who was joining them for breakfast. He glanced over at Sirius who still hadn't acknowledged Remus or just truly hadn't heard him. James swallowed his lump of a biscuit.

"Yeah, Moony… It's happening," he said with difficulty, the biscuit not going down easy. Remus looked horrified as he hovered above the table, his light brown hair falling in his face as his head drooped lower and lower until he collapsed down on the bench with a thud.

"And even Dumbledore—" he began, but James was already shaking his head. Even Dumbledore could not undo this. "What now? When?" Remus was still looking to Sirius, but the dejected teen was not attentive. He hadn't even touched his breakfast yet.

"After Christmas break," James supplied, at last.

"He's going to Drumstrang," Peter added, his voice low but tinged with something James could not distinguish… or like. Remus bobbed his head up and down, but James knew that his friend still did not fully comprehend. None of them did.

Just then he heard a laugh, and his head whipped towards the source. It was reflexive. It was what he always did when he heard her laugh, and when she did— and once he had spotted her—whatever happiness that she emitted he would catch. And he would smile in turn.

But when his eyes fixed on Lily, her lovely countenance scrunched up in that adorable laugh of hers, he felt nothing but bitterness.

He couldn't blame her—he knew that—but to see her laughing so effortlessly when he himself felt so low… It embittered him. In his mind, he told himself that she just didn't know, but inside he was telling himself that she just should… instinctually. After all, he felt things for her instinctually, things that she was feeling herself and not him initially.

James looked away because he couldn't be bothered to get worked up over Lily once again when it was his friend who needed him in that moment. However, when his eyes left her face— left the familiar pale skin and flushed cheeks and deep green eyes all framed in red, they befell on another.

Snape.

Across the room, the git was doing nothing to hide his apparent… glee? James felt something vomit up deep from within. It was more than anger—more than the usual acrimony that flaked James' every opinion of the Slytherin. It was cold and deep and rushing up faster than he could squelch.

He stood abruptly, shocking poor Remus out of his grieved musing and causing Peter to drop his forkful of eggs down into his lap. Even Sirius looked up at him. He wished he could tell them that he was stepping out for a bit for some fresh air— or that he was going to the common rooms or the library or anywhere—but he hesitated for a moment, choking on his words and locked on Snape.

"James?" came Remus quietly, concernedly.

"I'm—too crowded in here—for a bit—out—See ya."

With that, he fumbled over the bench and walked out of the Dining Hall, leaving his friends just as confused as he felt. He even heard Lily shout his name, but he just ignored her as he stormed out. He didn't even know where he was going. He was just following his feet; they seemed to be the only thing functioning rationally at the moment. They led him up the marble staircase, up floors two then three where he was then diverted down the stretch of a corridor. He seemed to be walking very purposefully when in truth he didn't know where the hell he was intent on getting to. But on he was directed until he stopped by the stone statue of the humpbacked witch.

James didn't even hesitate.

He tapped the witch and intoned quietly, "Dissendium." He squeezed through the small opening that appeared on the witch's back and slid down. He contemplated in the darkening, twisted tunnel if he should turn back to at least fetch his cloak, but James had been in and out of Hogwarts on this path more times than he could remember. He would not get caught; the cloak was unneeded. He pressed on and was careful when opening the trapdoor that led to Honeydukes' cellar.

Expertly, he concealed himself until the opportune moment where he then detached himself from his place of hiding and strode up the steps that led him to the shop's front and ultimately out on to Hogsmeade. He hesitated outside for a moment, unsure of what he planned on doing next, but once he caught sight of the Three Broomsticks he figured what better place was there for someone ditching school? Sure he'd get the disapproving glance of Madam Rosmerta, but James had spent a whole year charming the witch to where that's all she did now. Never a word. She just accepted it because James had wanted her to. When he and his mates came down some days, she never once reported them and always served them their order.

James felt he could use something warm in his stomach just then, something to counter the bile-esque sensation he felt stirring. And as he entered and chose his seat, after Rosmerta lectured him with a glance and then took his order—after his butterbeer arrived and he was finally left alone—he still could not shake the image of Snape.

Those beetle black eyes… The sneer on his lips… The look of absolute triumph!

He took a sip of his butterbeer, and it slid down eerily. He slammed his tankard down on the table and earned the annoyed looks of the neighboring occupants. But James didn't care because as he wiped the foam off his mouth, he thought he had a name for the feeling.

And it was nothing good.

For Snivellus.

* * *

After he had left the Three Broomsticks and subsequently Hogsmeade, it was still light out, so James had taken his time traversing through the gnarled tunnels up back to Hogwarts. Perhaps he was stalling—he certainly didn't want to immerse himself back into the fold of gloom along with his mates—but more than that, James just like being alone sometimes.

He knew he was being selfish. Sirius was going through something that James felt was akin to a crisis, but there were those moments when suddenly, James just had to be by himself. It wasn't like it was time wasted—James had certainly thought of a few things that could save his friend—but James had also thought of other plans. Ones that involved that slimy Slytherin. Ones that James prided himself on being able to shut the git up forever.

Or least make it so the bastard could never look at James again like he was superior.

Like he had this morning.

James meandered back towards the grand staircase. The idea was a hatchling, a fledgling of a thought. James would need more time to develop it further until it became the splendor he knew it could be. However, there were more pressing matters for James to pledge his focus to at the moment, and those were the ones that Sirius needed to be included in on from the get-go.

He looped around the end of the hall and was just making his first step upwards on the staircase when he saw someone descending ahead. He didn't turn around or dart out of sight. He didn't move at all in fact. This wasn't Filch or Peeves or any professor.

It was the one person James did not want to see.

By the other's expression, James knew they were of like mindedness.

"Please tell me you weren't haunting her again," James said, evenly enough. Snape said nothing, his banal focus merely shifted from the stair rail onto James. "You know, I've been thinking…" James began as he slowly trudged up the marble stairs, unsure of why his feet were moving at all, " …you should seriously consider partitioning for a spot as a Hogwarts ghost. Who knows? May be the only chance you'll ever get at actually being anything." James was smiling as he said all this, his earlier ire, annoyance, and confusion subsiding into the familiar. "It would certainly be a step up for you."

"Clever…" Snape said back to him, his voice unflinching, low, and disinterested. James narrowed his eyes, as he stopped three steps below the landing where Severus stood.

"Paying me compliments?" –and another step upward—"I'd say I'm flattered but really—"

"— _'it's to be expected'_ ," Snape finished for him bored, and again James stopped. "Look, Potter, I'm really tired. How about you save your restless goading for another day?" Snape put to him flatly, and without waiting for a response, he began his way down the stairs.

James was still, he didn't even sense his own breathing, but as Snape came to pass him, his arm… without his meaning to… his hand…

He reached out and latched unto Snape's upper arm just before the Slytherin passed him completely. James didn't know what to do. He was horrified. Obviously, Snape was just as taken aback or surely he would have shoved James away—cursed him—something. But for a moment, both of them remained like that— James facing the upper level, hand gripped tight around Snape—Snape turned towards the lower landing, one leg poised to continue on down… Silent…

What a fucking long moment!

James was torn between his horror of having actually touched the slimy snake and giving in to a voice that spoke deep and low within his mind— A voice telling him that he could vent out the frustration he felt on someone who truly deserved it all—could flex his superiority… could take this further...

Something strange was happening. The bile that seemed to always churn in his gut when Snape said something James did not like was beginning to settle down, or at least, it couldn't match the ferocity of a new sensation that began to take hold. His heart was hammering, and not in that way it does after he ran for long distances— or after pulling off a complicated broom trick—or after being caught by Dumbledore when a prank went awry— or when Lily smiled at him in that particular way…

This was something new.

—something unexpected…

"Let go before my flesh rots off from your putrid touch," Snape demanded caustically. On any other day, at any other given moment, James would have replied with something like, 'if anything it'll burn off since my divinity purges all evil,' but instead… on this day, at this moment, James felt his grip loosen and his arm fall limply to his side. Surely, this, at least, would elicit a response from the Slytherin.

But if it did, James couldn't see.

… didn't want to see.

Wordlessly, both boys separated, each continuing on to their intended destinations, their footsteps echoing in the abandoned, cavernous stairwell.

When James finally made it back to his room, the others were already asleep. Was is really so late? He kicked off his shoes, pulled off his jumper, unbuttoned his shirt, shifted out of his trousers, and slipped under his covers after concealing his four-poster bed behind translucent curtains. He removed his glasses, imparting them on the bedside table, and closed his eyes.

And did not sleep at all that night.

* * *

 

James shifted his weight from one leg to the other, blinking up into the sky.

He had considered riding this morning, if one could call it morning—it was still an inky blue out with a few tossed out stars here and there—but James hadn't gotten far beyond the front gate.

He merely watched as his vaporizing breath spiraled out and up. Autumn was finally concluding and winter was taking hold fast. Normally, James liked colder weather. He always said it because everything just seemed… cleaner.

But now, James was not so appreciative of winter's advent because during winter, there was Christmas, and after Christmas meant Sirius' departure from Hogwarts. Having Sirius gone meant losing a best mate. Losing a best mate meant losing James' one defender.

Because who was he kidding?

Sure people found his pranks funny, but the ones he surrounded himself with were merely clueless—generally. Sirius was the one other person who understood James' boredom, understood it and knew it well himself.

After the hours it had taken James to conclude that he was not receiving sleep any time soon, he had decided to go outside and away from his mates—where he could dedicate his restless moments to thinking up excellent pranks because thinking about those was infinitely better than thinking about a certain Slytherin. Even when James pictured the gutless snake in his mind, at the mercy of his cleverness (of his prank), he at least felt an ease supersede over his current— dare he think it?— anxiety.

Because when James truly drifted into remembering last night's encounter, with his grip so tight on the Slytherin's arm… he, himself, felt his grip on normalcy loosen. So he replaced last night with fantastical scenarios instead, in which he, like a revered sovereign, ruled over the servile and weak Slytherin completely. James was certain the pranks he had concocted within his mind would make it so Snape couldn't feel anything short of absolute defeat.

This one prank, in particular, James was especially proud of, and one he was confident, once he told Sirius, would make his mate equally as happy. It would take time, though. After all, the plan hinged on happening at a specific time… with the aid of a specific person. Of course there arose the only true difficulty.

Sirius was always more than willing to oblige when James wanted to execute a prank, and Peter would do anything he or Sirius asked him to. But Remus? The lad wasn't always so keen on the uptakes, even though James usually had a way of getting him to join in.

This one plan, however, was something that even he didn't think he could placate his friend into following…

But he had to.

This whole thing was really contingent upon Remus, after all.


	6. A Forced Set of Circumstances

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is has the most Snape/James interaction to date!

"We have to do this before I leave, you know," Sirius whispered to him as they settled into their seats for Potions class. James curbed his annoyance. Ever since James had told Sirius about his brilliant plan, this had become an everyday occurrence.

"I know that, Sirius, and like I've told you (a million times), it can't happen unless he agrees to it. And besides—" but James stopped short because Slughorn had just sauntered in. Usually, the teacher was much later than this.

"Alright class! Hurry up, hurry up! Take your seats!" his teacher announced, setting a stack of books down atop his desk. "We're going to be doing something slightly different today," he hummed, in highly good spirits. The class groaned collectively in response. What a professor meant by _'slightly different'_ was actually _'torturous and an unnecessary change that is sure to utterly annoy you younglings.'_

"Besides what?" Sirius hounded, head dipped low.

"The full moon isn't for another seventeen days. We'll have to wait anyway," James finished. Sirius huffed. Skilled as he and James were, they had yet to perfect the control of time… at all, really.

"Yeah… a day before I'm to leave for Christmas break. That's cutting it short," he said, miffed. James rolled his eyes.

"I can't magically make it a full moon whenever I want, you know, that'd just be cruel to Moony," James chided, but he was grinning slightly as he did, if only to make Sirius let up. It had it's intended effect.

"Whatever… seventeen days it is then…" he agreed, grinning, too.

"I've noticed something about my classes that I find somewhat disheartening," Slughorn announced, shuffling about his desk in a hurried manner. Sirius and James exchanged looks of slight disbelief, for what could a conniving Slytherin truly find disheartening?

"For the past two months, and truly all up through these years at Hogwarts, I've been a rather complacent teacher. Subsequently, I have allowed my students to accept a rather complacent disposition. No more though, I'm afraid!" He turned to face the class sternly. "I've noticed that many of my students do not improve in their skill set. No change happens at all, in fact. Everyone is making the same grades they've earned since the first year. That is worrisome, and I have come to the conclusion that it is because none of you truly interact with anyone other than who you normally interact with."

James couldn't help but wonder where this little lecture was leading.

"So I've decided that from here on out, I'll be assigning your partners. Randomly, of course," Slughorn said, striding over behind his desk and pulling out a rather nice (and expensive looking) bowler hat. "I've put all your names in here and will pair up the partners by calling out whichever name I pick out of here," and he gave the hat a slight shake.

James wasn't too bothered by this. Even though he only really ever partnered up with Sirius, he was confident in his good luck to not be stuck with any loathsome Slytherin. He blithely glanced over at the other side of the room where the silver-and-green-clad lot were looking all hoity-toity about this new set of circumstances.

Slughorn began pulling names from the hat and announcing the pairs. James was a little pissed when Sirius was paired with Remus (seemed Sirius had better luck than him) because it meant that James was down two preferred candidates. Lily was then partnered up with a brutish Slytherin whose name James didn't know nor care to know, and then even Peter was partnered up with Lily's friend, Nora. The list of people James wanted to work with were now down to those he could tolerate, but as Slughorn read on, it was becoming abundantly clear where this was all heading.

James and Snape's names were the last to be read.

Sirius looked about ready to laugh his head off when he caught sight of James' reaction. His friend was sorely misguided, though. James was beyond irritation at this forced arrangement—beyond disappointment and disbelief. He was actually panicking. Sirius just thought James was putting on a show for his friend.

This was not the case.

"Remember your disinfecting charms, okay mate? I don't want to come back here and find you reeking of mediocrity," Sirius laughed. James forced a smile on his face. It felt tight.

"Alright! Go ahead and get into your pairs, we'll get right into our lesson!" Slughorn said, looking rather pleased with himself. James thought that this was the most idiotic scheme ever concocted. Forcing such opposing houses like Gryffindor and Slytherin into confined spaces was already moronic, but forcing them to work together? Well… that was just down right fucking stupid.

He hadn't quite forgotten that little exchange up on the marble staircase just days ago either…

"Think you can go over there?" came Sirius, trying to force down another fit of laughter. "I don't want him tainting my seat, you know." If ever James wanted to curse his friend…

"What are you talking about? I'm already making him honorary best mate—for when you leave," James said coldly. He wasn't amused, at all, by this situation, and Sirius rubbing it in his face wasn't squelching his bitterness—his anxiety. But at his comment, Sirius' face fell and then grew taut.

"Even joking, that's not funny, James," his friend bit out. James immediately felt like an insensitive bastard, but before he could apologize, Sirius had stood abruptly and left to join Remus who was sitting in the back of the class today.

"Was that a lover's spat?"

James looked up to find Snape standing beside him.

"The truly comedic thing here is that you have to ask," James said, showing no intention of moving Sirius' things to make room for the Slytherin. He would not be relinquishing the upper-hand here.

"You should placate him more," Snape continued, coldly, shoving Sirius' things off to the side before taking a hesitant seat next to James. "Because when he leaves… who will you truly have left?" Snape didn't even look at him when he said this, he was already opening his book and turning to the specified page on the blackboard. James opened his mouth to retaliate when Slughorn interrupted.

"This potion is mighty difficult. It will take a whole month to brew properly. Consequently, get used to your pairing—It won't change again until this project is complete."

"Gods," James sighed irately, dropping his face into his hands. "I thought I had such good luck, too," he mumbled. "And yet… here I am—partnered up with this… this… thing!"

"You have good luck, Potter," Snape said quietly and with something else inflected in his tone that James could not decipher. James peeked at him sourly through his fingers. Why was the git even talking to him? James was just cursing whatever gods there were in the universe. He didn't need the Slytherin butting in on his self-pity. "But my abysmal streak outdoes your serendipity."

James went rigid.

What was that? Just now? In his chest?

Wordlessly, Snape got up and went to retrieve the ingredients they would need. James found he was watching the Slytherin. If James hadn't known any better—if such events took place in the world—he would have thought that Snape had just made… a joke. The Slytherin returned and after laying out their necessary items, he looked to James.

And there it was again.

"What? You couldn't even be bothered to set up the cauldron?" Snape asked caustically. James blinked in confusion which made Snape quirk a brow. "You've done this before, right?" Snape taunted. James, catching himself, relaxed back into his chair.

"I just thought I was doing you a favor, Snivellus..." Snape's lip curled into a snarl at James' most beloved nickname for the git. "Isn't this the only way you ever feel any sort of accomplishment?" James jeered. Snape sat down.

"There's no need to cover your insecurities with insults," Snape quipped back evenly, rolling up his sleeves. James was surprised to find that Snape's arms weren't as spidery as he had anticipated. Pale as fucking hell, though. "I know Slughorn said this potion was difficult, but really, any dunderhead can do this if they follow the instructions. Even you." James tensed in shock. He was almost amused by Snape's banter. Almost. If it had been anyone else, James might have even conceded to defeat because the insult was so straightforward. But this was Snape. James did not want to balk to Snape.

"Oh but I'm actually getting really good at this kitchen magic," James replied. "After all… Lily's an excellent teacher," he said, dropping his voice in volume. Snape visibly tensed. James watched the reaction feeling a sense of fascination. He'd admit that this bout of insult was like going for Snape's jugular, but James rather liked seeing Snape get all worked up over Lily.

No! Not 'liked'—just that it amused him. Snape was ridiculous to ever think that he could share in any kind of relationship with Lily, whether it was friendship or not. James just like reminding the slimy bastard of that fact and noting the resulting look of incensed defeat that would come over the other.

But something astounding happened just then. Something that actually made James Potter shut it once again in front of the Slytherin.

"She should be. She learned it all from me."

What the fuck? What was happening to James that this spineless, speck of a person could continue to get the better of him? It was intolerable. It was inexcusable.

It was worrisome.

Snape took James stunned silence as a sign of victory. The bastard smirked at him. James' head was reeling and spinning too fast for him to collect his thoughts. In all his confusion, anger, and surprise, what he, instead of his usual brandished wit, got out was, "You're lying." That is not what James had wanted to say.

Or was it?

Snape smirked that conniving smirk that the Slytherins seemed so quick to employ all the time. "Why would I lie about that? We used to have regular tutoring sessions. Why do you think potion's is her favorite subject?" Snape answered, looking pleased with himself as he set to dicing the belladonna. James' heart was picking up in speed… and force.

"Tutoring sessions?" he said. Snape didn't even look at him.

"Potter, if you don't at least do something, I'm going to take full credit for this potion. And you shouldn't want that," Snape replied, pouring water into the cauldron.

"Why not? And why did you just sidestep me? It's because you're lying right? Poor Snivelly. Don't worry, I find your skewed sense of reality much more entertaining than this little fantasy of yours," James said back, feeling all the concerning sensations quieting a little.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Potter," Snape said dismissively. That did not satisfy James in the least. He leaned in close.

"She's just feeling sorry for you, you know." He leaned back and smiled at Snape, the kind of smile that was so effortless and meant nothing. Snape's brows raised for just a moment, and he was bobbing his head slightly, almost imperceptibly.

"And why does it bother you?" Snape asked, as he went to strip bark off the small bundle of oak twigs.

"Heh, please Snivellus. I have to defend the fair maiden from any beast, you know— be it troll, ghost, or… snake," James said. "But her heart is so kind that it can even confuse you for someone worth caring about."

"Potter, I mean it. Do something. Can't you multitask?" Snape cut. James smiled again. Snape was getting agitated. Then stasis was returning at last.

James set to work because like hell he was about to let Snape get all the credit. He read over the potion's passage and was amazed at how many steps there were—the damn thing spanned across three pages! He pulled out a small handful of dragon claws and began grinding them up in his mortar. When it reached the consistency he was looking for, James set it aside to start on dicing the sneezewort.

He was actually working pretty diligently, and he wondered if it was because he wasn't paired up with the usually bored Sirius. Not that James would admit that to Slughorn or anything. It was just a thought.

Confident the plant was diced small enough, he went to dump it into the cauldron before one pale arm blocked his movement.

"I wouldn't just yet," Snape said, not looking at him, but trying to pound the stripped oak twigs with one hand.

"Oh come on, Snape. It's right here in the book that after the belladonna, you add the sneezewort," James explained exasperatedly.

"I've made this before. It's much better if you wait until after the oak is added. I'm almost done," Snape replied back, in earnest. James, because he'd never been spoken to by the Slytherin so casually, put the bowl of sneezewort back down. Was Snape so into this that he couldn't even muster up his usual venom? James eyed him suspiciously.

"Don't give me that look, Potter," Snape spat. Ah, there it was. "I wouldn't sabotage my own project. Not even for you." James watched as he pulverized the last bit of oak and then dumped it into the cauldron. The liquid gave a small puff before turning a deep green.

"Now?" James asked.

"Yes… then stir it three times counter-clockwise," Snape said, getting distracted again.

"Why? The book says to do it four times clockwise," James asked, but he did it the way Snape said anyway.

"Books can be outdated, Potter. Stirring it three times doesn't over mix the ingredients so that their potency is kept a little longer. And it's better counter-clockwise because that's the natural magical pull for the oak."

"How can you tell?" James asked, peering into the cauldron like it was going to answer him. Snape held up a remaining small twig of the oak.

"If you look closely enough, you can see how the bark forms around the tissue of a tree," Snape explained. James leaned in close to look at the branch. "And depending on that, you'd know it's magical pull."

"Magical pull, huh?" James said skeptically, getting closer to the branch as if he'd be able to see such magic.

"Almost everything has a magical pull…"

"I don't get it. It's just looks like vertical scales," James said. He straightened when Snape pulled back his hand quickly.

"It's the thickness of the fissures that matter, but that varies from tree to tree," Snape said, returning back to his ingredients.

"How could you have possible figured that out?" James asked. Truly, though he'd never say it—not to Snape and not to himself—James was impressed. It was a smidgen of a realization, one that James could deftly fling away.

"Trial and error…"

"Did you teach Lily all this, too?" James asked before he could stop himself. Snape actually almost dropped the bowl along with the lacewings into the cauldron.

"That's a bit much for anyone," Snape answered, simply.

"But you retain it all, right?" What the fuck was he doing? Why was he vomiting up this crap? He furiously set to cutting up his rat spleen.

"I guess…" Snape said slowly, as if he was walking into some sort of trap. If anything, the trap was being set for James.

James decided he'd just better spell his mouth shut. He didn't, but the thought made him shut it for a bit anyway. They continued to work in silence again, unlike much of the rest of the class. James noted that the pairings consisting of a Gryffindor and Slytherin were not making much progress. Already two people had to be sent to the hospital wing when one potion suddenly erupted purple fire and burned off half the hair on one Slytherin boy's head while it burned the tips of his Gryffindor partner's fingers. James wondered at the fact that his and Snape's potion was coming along at all.

"Excellent work, my boys!" Slughorn said, beaming down into their cauldron.

"Thank you, sir," Snape mumbled, and James was stunned to see a slight tinge creep across the Slytherin's face. Was Snape…?

"Of course, I'd expect nothing less from you two. This is likely going to turn out to be the best in the class, if I may be so presumptuous!" Slughorn chuckled, clapping Snape on the back of the shoulder, almost causing the smaller boy to drop his ingredients. Then he was off to inspect the other potions. Snape was fidgeting slightly, as if… embarrassed?

He'd never seen such a reaction from the Slytherin. And he had noticed that while making this potion— while James had flipped back and forth between pages, had stopped countless times to read, had double checked with the extra information on the black board, had Snape stop him a few more times to do things differently—Not during all that time had Snape looked away from his work, nor had he paused in his movements. There was such fluidity to him…

James felt that sensation in him quiver, and he found he couldn't stop himself once again.

"You don't even look at your book," he rushed out suddenly, startling Snape. "You have all these potions memorized?" he asked, a bit too intently for his liking. Someone kill James where he stood, now. Snape was actually coiling away from James and eyeing his book as if it were about to betray him again… like the last time James got his hands on it. Why else would James mention it just then, right?

James' knife was being awfully loud as he slammed it down on the cutting board over and over again. His heart was pounding just as loudly…

"Only the ones I've done before," Snape said, straightening, as if bracing himself for whatever James was planning. But James wasn't planning anything! Why was he asking about this shit? Why was he even talking to his most hated enemy like this? Why the fuck should he care? Snape, the paranoid twat that he was, was thinking the same thing.

"Why are you asking me all this, Potter." James, trying to convey nothing but boredom, shrugged his shoulders.

"I'm killing time. Shouldn't you be appreciative or something," James said, scrapping the diced spleen off the cutting board and plopping the bloodied bits into the darkening liquid.

"Whatever you're planning, you should just stop now," Snape said tersely, his black eyes boring into James.

James swallowed hard.

"Class is almost over, Snivelly. I don't have much time for anything," James said back, turning away from the blackness of Snape's eyes. "Besides, if I mess with you now, then I'd ruin my chances for a good mark. Think what you will of me, but I do pride myself on having top marks," James explained, trying to steady his breathing. Why was Snape still staring at him? "Plus, I've angered my one only other accomplice, so…"

"Because that's something that stops you?" Snape asked bitterly. James smiled at him, feeling that sensation uncurl further inside his belly.

"He does understand my brand of humor, that one," James said, through his teeth. Snape's jaw tightened, and he dumped his own ingredients into the cauldron. The potion bubbled forcefully for four seconds and abruptly turned a sickening yellow.

"Don't worry, Potter. You're much more conniving than you give yourself credit for." James turned to Snape, but the Slytherin had already gathered their ingredients and was returning them back to the cupboards. Deciding to ignore Snape's comment, James levitated the cauldron over to the side room where everyone else was placing theirs. He wondered, before returning to his table, if he and Snape—Well if everyone had to make frequent trips back to this class to watch out for their potion. He asked Snape this. Snape looked at him like he was an idiot. He was certainly feeling like an idiot today.

"Slughorn's going to put a freezing charm on them," Snape said slowly, as he gathered his things. James made an 'ah! I see!' expression before Snape, after one last confused and wary glance, stalked away. James tidied up his own things and then stuffed them into his bag being careful not to watch as Snape left.

"Seriously, mate, what was all that about?" came Remus suddenly as he stopped behind him. James looked over at his shoulder; he saw Sirius leave without him.

"What do you mean?" James asked distantly.

"I mean, during the whole class you were… talking to him." Remus put cautiously.

"I wasn't talking to him. I was baiting him," James lied, as he straightened.

"Why?"

"What do you mean, why? It's what we do."

"Sure, but… why?" Remus asked as he trailed behind James.

"Moony, cut the crap. You know why…" and James sped off hotly, but not before he heard Remus mumble, "but I don't know why." James seethed. What? Had Remus been watching him or something? And why didn't Sirius wait up for him? Was he really so peeved about James' underhanded comment that he had just left without saying anything? Sirius should know that James wouldn't actually replace him with… with…

"James, wait up!" someone called behind him as one thin arm wrapped around his own and pulled him back.

"What, Evans?" James demanded. Lily's eyes widened slightly in surprise, but she shook it off quickly.

"I was just wondering how class was for you today?" she asked, smiling slightly.

"I don't get it… It was fine—as far as Slughorn's classes are concerned," James replied, adjusting the strap on his shoulder. He needed to get to next class. Lily wasn't going to make him late for another class again, so he could just get detention… again, just so he'd accidentally meet that Slytherin again…

"James? James!"

"What?" James asked. Lily was looking at him weird. Why though?

"It's nothing… forget it," she said, stepping around him. She was about to leave when a trail of her hair brushed against his hand still on his strap. So… he reacted.

"Wait!" and he grabbed her arm, much like she had his just a second ago. "What did you want to ask me?"

"James… we should get to class…" she said softly. Was he crazy or was she… blushing?

"No! Ask me what you were going to ask me!" His chest was heaving. Was he really breathing so hard? She looked down at the floor, and James felt her tensing under his touch.

"It's no big deal… I was just wondering if later—Because you and your mates do it all the time—So you may not want to—but I thought that maybe—"

"Come on, Lily—Ask me."

"Take me to Hogsmeade later?" she rushed out. Her face… it was so red… "I just thought we could sneak out later—go to the Three Broomsticks," and her voice quieted—James almost had a hard time hearing her, his heart was beating so loud. "Just us."

… 'just us…'

"Yes! I mean… yeah—Sure," he beamed. She looked at him tentatively, like he was about to say that he was kidding, but James was smiling too much to form any words at the moment.

"Brilliant! Alright then… See you later, James!" and with a slight twirl, she headed to class, but not before she turned around once more and smiled so sweetly at him. He waved at her like an idiot.

Excellent! So he had a date—With Lily! James sauntered down the hall, not caring to rush to class. If he got detention for this, then… Well, it'd be bloody worth it for a date with Lily.

* * *

 

"Come on, Padfoot! You can't still be mad at me?"

James was standing at the end of Sirius' four-poster bed, trying his hardest to get the attention of the bed's occupant. Sirius eyed him like he was poison.

"Sirius?"

"Why were you talking with Snivellus during class?" Sirius asked sharply. James reeled.

"Not you, too…" he mumbled, rubbing at his temple tiredly. Sirius glared at him.

"You know, mate, you've been acting all weird lately," Sirius accused, straightening in his bed. Probably to better glare at James.

"Me? You're the one that's been in a right state—"

"With good reason!"

"I'm not acting any different than I normally do!" James said, hotly. When in truth, he felt there was validity to Sirius' claim. He had been feeling out of sorts lately…

"Yeah, you are!"

"How so?"

"Like today for instance!"

"Not making his book talk dirty does not mean I've been off!"

"But talking to him like he's one of your house mates does!"

"Uh, guys? You're kind of loud…" Remus called, peering over his book. James turned to glare at him at which he quickly dove behind his book again. James and Sirius had these rumbles from time to time, and though Remus was one of his mates, too, he didn't need to always get in the middle of it. In the moments of quiet where James was trying to remember what he was going to yell at Sirius, he felt some of his irritation wane slightly.

"Look… I promised I'd meet with Lily, so—"

"What?" Sirius almost leapt out of his bed, but he had somehow managed to wrap himself partially in his covers and so stumbled to a crawl over his bed instead.

"What do you mean what? I said I'm going—"

"No, I heard you," Sirius interjected. James looked around the room like he'd just missed something.

"Am I not supposed to go on a date with Lily or something?" James snorted, looking at Sirius like he was crazy. James expected a retort, but what he got instead was one final hard stare before Sirius freed his leg from the covers roughly and stormed out of the room, slamming the door on his way out. James stared after him disbelievingly.

"Can you believe that prat?" James exclaimed, gesturing to the door. Remus cautioned a peek over his studies. "What's gotten into him?" Remus smiled tensely.

"You know what's gotten into him," he said softly. James opened his mouth to argue, but closed it back slowly.

"Whatever… I'm gonna go meet up with Lily," and he swiped his jumper off his bed. "See ya." He walked the steps from the dorm down to the common room. Sirius was nowhere to be seen, and that was just fine with him. The jerk could go sulk in Moaning Myrtle's loo for all he cared. He stopped by the portrait hole where Lily, already waiting for him, smiled at him warmly.

And he wondered why his heart did not skip.

* * *

 

"You seem kind of distracted," Lily said after sipping some of her warm butterbeer. James, whose head was resting on one upturned hand, glanced at her briefly.

"It's not a big deal, but Sirius is mad at me for something," James sighed. Lily nodded her head as if she understood.

"I heard about… his situation," she said delicately. James closed his eyes; they felt kind of weary. "You have to understand how he feels," she said softly. James looked at her, hard.

"Of course I do! Why wouldn't I? Sirius is like my brother! Him leaving affects me, too, ya know!" James said defensively. Lily leaned back.

"I know that—"

 "Then why'd you say that just now?" James interrupted. Lily looked downward and into her foaming beverage, then at her clasped hands before her, then to the couple next to them that was cozying up to one another.

"It's not like you're always the most… sensitive person," she whispered, as if she didn't want to be heard, but James had heard her. He snorted derisively. What a riot.

"Sure I am. After all..." and he smiled at her. By her reaction, it was nothing short of cruel. "...I heard about your and Allen's little… tryst. And have you seen me reacting badly?" Lily looked horrified and ashamed. She should be. "So that whole party thing—You not wanting to be around him because he was annoying—You were just done with him right?" Lily's hands were shaking, and James smiled sweetly.

"Don't worry, Lily. That's a trait of yours I've understood for awhile now."

"What do you mean?" she asked not looking at him. He propped his chin on his hand and studied her. He wished he could see her eyes. How was he supposed to know if this regret was genuine or not?

"When did you meet Snape?" he asked her simply. Her head shot up, and she looked at him confusedly.

"What?" she asked, thinking she must have heard James wrong. Why would he be asking about the person he sincerely hated most in the world?

"You and Snape were friends before you got to this school, right? When'd you meet him?" he asked, eyes half lidded as if already bored, but he wasn't. James was being very attentive. She ran a finger over the handle of her glass tankard, stalling. James could see her working through whatever emotions were going through her mind right then and there. Was she figuring out how to best appease him in this moment? Was she trying to find the right words that describe her relationship with the Slytherin that wouldn't call forth the jealousy that it normally did? Because James knew that she knew he was very often jealous.

"I don't understand why you want to know this. Did he say something to you during Potions?" she asked, and as she did, she already looked accosted, as if already blaming her aforetime friend. James felt that feeling again stirring deep below inside him.

"You know that he'd never say anything bad about you, Lily, but by your reaction, I'm beginning to think that you have done something regrettable," he smiled at her. Her mouth fell open a little, as if wishing the right words would come forth on their own volition, and James wondered why this was so hard for her.

"I met him when I was little. He lived in the same neighborhood as me—he… sensed that there was something similar about him and me," she began, her voice a slight tremble.

"He was the first person to tell you that you had the gift of magic," James surmised, and he was only glad that he sounded as indifferent as he did though his heart was thrumming— with what, he did not know. Lily looked up at him and nodded.

"Yes, and after that, he always came by. It was… nice—knowing—having someone else that could do the same fantastical things that you could. My sister, she didn't understand. I think she was jealous that I could perform magic and not her—" Lily glanced up at James who was rolling his hand lazily, the gesture telling her to move along past this part. It wasn't interesting him. She narrowed her eyes while her mouth grew taut, but she didn't say anything to this. "Anyway, I don't know what else you're looking for. We were friends, we came to Hogwarts, and now we're not such good friends—"

"But you are still friends?" James asked, peering over at her through his spectacles.

"I don't know what you could call it…" she answered with a sigh.

"Not good enough, Lils. I want to know," he pressed.

"Why though? You don't even like him! In fact, you hate him!" Lily exclaimed heatedly and rather loudly, drawing the attention of the few people that encased their table.

"But you didn't always. What changed?" he continued, ignoring her slight tremble of anger. She bit her bottom lip in contemplation. Why was she having to fish around for an answer? Shouldn't her response be, _'You know why. Because he's a creepy, dark-arts loving Slytherin'_ ? That should have been her answer, but instead, he got:

"Because we're just too different," she admitted softly, and something flashed over her features. Something that softened them for just a moment—something that James could not identify properly.

"But… you still… care about him?" James ventured, hoping it was a shot in the dark, a shot that would miss the target completely. But she smiled, and this James understood to be wistfulness.

"Sure… like you would anyone that you first cared about outside of your family," she said, and James felt that feeling in him curling in on itself, as if wanting to shrink away from such admittances.

"Cared about? Lily… did… were you… You're not still in l—" but James couldn't finish the sentence, the question, that hammered in his head and gut. He noticed he was standing slightly. Lily watched him curiously.

"I don't understand…" she said, those little brows of hers coming close together in scrutiny. "This? This is what's bothering you?" she seethed out, and James was stunned by her tone. He'd never heard it like this before. "You find out about me and Allen—which by the way! Nothing really happened—and your reaction is calm, but you're going to get all worked up over Snape? When him and me haven't even talked since second year-!"

"Don't lie to me! I know you've been hanging out with him!" James shouted.

"Did he tell you that?" she demanded, her tiny shoulders raising up in her tenseness.

"I saw you two! Three weeks ago!"

"That-That wasn't anything!" she said, standing now, too. By now, their confrontation had garnered the attention of all the bars' attendants.

"I never said it was truly something—just that you're obviously lying about seeing him. And why's that? Are you ashamed of your little spook?" James asked sweetly. Lily closed her eyes tight, turning her head to the side. James had never seen Lily so worked up before. And for what? Snape?

And it twisted inside him.

"I. Am. Not!" she spat slowly, forcefully. "But every time—every time I hang around him, you—Your mates—You all—Just won't leave him alone…" she trailed weakly. James straightened.

"You think I mess with him because of you?" James asked, leaning forward, resting his hands on the table.

"Don't you?" she asked, and this time, it was she who smiled sweetly at him. Again James straightened and studied her thoughtfully. It was true that James never liked seeing Lily around Snape—she was his and Snape couldn't take her from him.

…like James had from Snape.

And it churned within him.

"Fine! Don't answer!" she fumed as she dug roughly into her pockets. "And what the hell's been wrong with you lately anyway?" she hissed as she slammed the money to cover her tab on the table. "You've been a right git these last weeks, you know. Oh! And thanks for such a lovely evening, Potter!" And with that, she charged out of the Three Broomsticks leaving James to stand there while everyone's disapproving glances were boring into him. He snorted for effect and put forth his own share of the tab before nodding to the barkeep Rosmerta and then the customers. He walked out nonchalantly because James would not show that he was anything less than unaffected.

When in truth…

He hadn't even said the things that he had really wanted to say to her, but then again, like James would ever admit the things he was experiencing just then. Lily had been friends with Snape—for years!—and then all of a sudden he's just not who she was expecting? James found that hard to believe—that Snape was anyone other than who he showed himself to be.

Unlike James…

And Lily saw what in Snape all of sudden that wasn't there before? If she did that to Snape, wouldn't she eventually just… do the same to James? James shook his head as if physically willing such thoughts to disperse.

He trudged out past the outer bounds of Hogsmeade. He ducked down and walked through a gap in the exterior fence and slowly made his way up to a ramshackle thing of a house just a little ways down. It's where he and his mates often hid out at when Moony was in one of his moods or when they just didn't feel like bothering with school.

And James certainly had no desire to see anyone right now.

Because he knew there was no one in this moment that wanted to see him.

James stayed there in the house (recently dubbed the Shrieking Shack) for awhile. He lay down on a beaten mattress, something left behind from so long ago that it was sunken in and torn in places (but what did he care?) until he sensed that it had long since passed nine thirty. He closed his eyes for one last moment to himself and hoped that once he made it back to Hogwarts, everyone would be asleep.

He didn't want to bother with Peter's naivety—certainly not Remus' expectant chiding—And least of all Sirius' anger towards him.

How did things get so fucked up anyway? Him and Sirius were supposed to be kicking it up like fools… before the boy left. They were supposed to be enacting on their dumbest pranks and their most childish antics. He and Sirius had planned on spending at least one night in the Forbidden Forest to prove who was manlier (not that James would lose, of course), and they were supposed to bribe the House elves to serve all the students bugs and worms and shit (and he'd admit—that one was a bit far-fetched). But now…? With only weeks left until Christmas break?

And hadn't he'd made a mess of things with Lily? James wondered why he could be so cruel to her, and then he remembered how truly spiteful she could get. It was different from James' acts of insensitivity in that hers were usually in reaction to his, but still! That she would dismiss Allen so willfully—that she would abandon her first friend…

…when that friend still held her in the highest regards…

James opened one eye blearily and stared out a dusty window that had been boarded up except for a strip across the middle. It was certainly dark outside. He heaved himself off the quicksand-like mattress and stretched. He stood and scratched his bits indecently before deciding he should really start heading back.

James could never fully display his appreciation towards the castle Hogwarts. It was his sanctum—his source of irritation—and his route to momentary releases of freedom, and the Shrieking Shack was just that.

But James couldn't stay here forever (not that he'd want to), so he made his arduous way back to Hogwarts through the secret door, down the earthen tunnels, up and out under the spelled unmoving Whomping Willow, across the green lawns, past the front gates of the castle, across the entrance hall, and then…

—he diverted towards the Dining Hall.

Something told him to—that if he'd wait just a bit longer…

He didn't know what for, but he obeyed his instincts. He chose his usual seat at the Gryffindor table and faced the outer hall. He had a really good view of the entrance chamber. With his back to the table, he rested his elbows on it and leaned back against it, wishing the Hufflepuff table was just a bit closer so he could prop his feet up on something. He felt he may be waiting awhile.

Sure enough, James sensed many a minutes tick by until he was certain that enough time had passed that he was officially being ridiculous. So he stood. Then he walked to the entrance of the Dining Hall, then across the foyer, and then to the edge of the Marble Staircase.

And then he stopped and turned around.

And there, emerging from his lair like a nocturnal vermin, was Severus Snape.

And James' heart sped and his blood pumped and his hand twitch and the feeling surged…

…and he smiled.

How perfect, he thought.

A/N: Hmm... Wonder how the next scene will play out…


	7. The Uprise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look! It's all Snape and James here, from start to finish! What!

 

"You're becoming quite the predictable creature, Snivellus," James announced, a bit breathlessly. Snape turned his head slightly, regarding him minimally, before he leaned against the wall.

"Am I to take that to mean that you were somehow…. waiting for me, Potter?" he asked, looking much too unconcerned for James' liking. James felt his lips quirk upward in response.

"It certainly makes you an… easier target," he replied calmly though his fingers twitched reflexively. Snape must have seen this movement and narrowed his eyes in warning.

"You know, I should blame myself for this," Snape said suddenly, detaching himself from the wall like a shadow moving along with its keeper. "I've certainly allowed you and your mates to get the better of me—I suppose I've just always underestimated you and your… cruelty?" and his voiced trailed questioningly as he took a step forward. "No, that's not it…" he then said. "Ambition?" —another step taken—"I think even you know that's still not quite right..." he smirked as he took yet another step closer. "Oh wait, I know the right word—" and then he was only three paces away from James, and James, even though he kept his demeanor calm, was truly feeling riled.

"It's that apathy of yours that I miscalculate continuously," he said and with such finality that in that instance, James felt the declaration to be true. But he was James, and as such, he was quite capable of laughing off such a remark, even if he felt as though his diaphragm was being crushed under the insufferable force of his heartbeat. He would brush this off.

He rolled his eyes and snorted. "Not this again, eh, Snivelly?" and then his wand was in his hand. He tapped it to his temple. "You think I'm playing a game here, but I assure you this is about nothing more than my hatred of you," and then he smiled kindly. "Well that and my utter boredom with everything," he added, twisting Snape's insult to suit his own need. And then it was Snape's turn to laugh it off, like him and James had just shared some kind of inside joke. The only thing was that James did not feel like he was in the loop.

"I really shouldn't deny this outlet for you," Snape laughed, and it sounded cruel. James noted that the Slytherin's wand was in hand as well, held loosely between his fingers. When did he—?

"What are you on about?" James asked, flicking his gaze from the wand to the Slytherin's cunning expression.

"Just that every time you feel the need to act on these ridiculous impulses of yours, the more it makes her come to me…" he smiled.

All along it had only ever been a whisper, a creeping sensation that wormed around in his gut, but it had grown stronger with every step Snape had taken towards him. Still, it had been repressible. But now—When Snape looked at him in that way—When he spoke those last words—And James felt them to be true—And Snape knew James could deny nothing—And the words mingled with the sensation until it was just parasitic enough for James to feel sick—And…

…Well, like most parasites, this one broke free from its host and unleashed its dormant fury.

"Locomotor Mortis!" James intoned, hurling the jinx towards Snape, but the Slytherin had been practicing it seemed and sidestepped the curse entirely.

"I'd throw your own words at you about becoming the predictable creature, but that's probably a bit too cliché, right?" Snape smirked. And James found he could smile in response because this was very interesting, and his blood was pumping. Was this excitement? He didn't know; he just knew that he needed to act.

"Impedimenta!" he spelled, but again, Snape countered him.

"Protego!" Snape said.

"Stupefy!" and again, his curse was dispelled by Snape's shield charm. So he threw another hex, and then another jinx, his wand guided by body memory, each one a reflex of his tongue. He shouted the Arm-Lock curse, then the Silencing charm, and when those, too, were deflected he tried the Stinging hex and the Jelly-leg jinx.

They circled around each other, and Snape fired off a Briar-Bind curse. James barely had enough time to duck behind one of the armor guards before the spell collided with the suit's shield and made it sprout thorny vines. James had to hand it to the Slytherin; this was more than he had anticipated. He took a moment to catch his breath; he had never had to expel this much energy and magic before.

"Not very Gryffindor of you, Potter— ducking and hiding like a coward," Snape called out snidely. "Then again… I never believed you truly belonged in that house." James rolled his eyes as he stepped out from behind the suited guard.

"Have I told you how sick I am of hearing that?" James replied, raising his wand. "Expelliarmus." But Snape dodged it.

"Just admit I'm right and maybe I'll stop mentioning it," he bit back. "Silencio!" James called forth his own shield charm, and he watched as Snape's spell disbanded across the unseen barrier.

"Occaeco!" he shouted as he flicked his wand upward. This he knew hit Snape when the Slytherin stumbled into the wall and groped around for stability. "Ha! That's more like it!" James taunted. Snape intoned a curse, but being blinded, he missed his target completely. "Come now, Snivelly. I think a great, grimy bat like yourself can at least sense me out!" James laughed, getting nearer. Again, Snape made his attempt, and again James was able to avoid by simply stepping to the side.

He drew closer, watching as Snape struggled to discern his location. The Slytherin had one hand braced against the wall, while his other brandished his wand like swift rapier. His eyes were shut tight, as if he believed that if he just blinked hard enough, the curse seeping him in darkness would abate. Too bad for Snape, though. Apparently he didn't know the very elusive counter-curse. Come to think of it, did James even know it?

"Take it off, Potter!" Snape spat. "Isn't this a little too spineless— even for you?" he baited, but James wasn't buying it. He knew Snape was trying to detect his whereabouts, so he kept his mouth shut. Snape tilted his head, as if straining to hear James' movements. James stilled.

He should be taking this moment to end this little duel—prove once and again how much better he was by comparison—but each time he tried to raise his wand in offense, no spells came to mind. Instead, he wondered at how this battle had almost been a stale-mate or worse yet, a bitter defeat on James' end. Things like, ' _when did Snape get this good?'_  and ' _how could I have not noticed this?'_  raced within his mind. But even as he contemplated all this in the quiet, James knew the answer.

' _Maybe he was always this good._ '

"Why haven't you attacked yet?" Snape asked suddenly, and James straightened. He hadn't realized he'd been less than attentive. Something flashed over Snape's face during the silence; his jaw tightened and his brows furrowed upward while his wand hand lowered somewhat. James marveled at the display of unease.

Snape didn't think he was there anymore.

But James couldn't move away.

In fact, it was quite the opposite. James crept forward, his wand lowering until it was just another relaxed extension of his body. Snape rubbed at his eyes, and recited spell after spell, each one ineffectual. James racked his brain for the counter-curse, but first he had to remember from where he had stumbled upon the curse.

He then thought he remembered the first (and only) time he had ever gone to visit Sirius at his house. The Blacks, guarded and covert in almost all their affairs, had taken away James' sight... so he wouldn't know the way there and consequently could lead no other wizard back. What was it they had said once he had arrived at the house?

Oh wait!

James lifted his wand, fully intent on returning Snape's sight—his reasons for doing so inconsequential to him—and inhaled quickly to form the first syllable of the remembered counter, when Snape reared his head and shot off a curse. James didn't recognize it—

"Sectumsempra!" the Slytherin shouted.

—but he certainly knew its effects well enough.

The greenish light shot through the distance and slashed across his cheek; he heard the flesh rip before he felt the sting.

And it was merely automatic after that—his body's obligatory response to such a willful attack. He lunged forward and slammed Snape up against the wall.

"Come now! Don't you think that was a tad bit vicious? Even for you?" James seethed. He felt the wound stretch and the first drops of blood trickling down. Snape hissed out something, too muffled for James to hear properly, but he certainly felt the other's wand being raised. He leveled his own against the Slytherin, ready to disarm him when Snape beat him to it.

"Expelliarmus!" Snape snarled, and James' wand went soaring behind him. He watched as his wand clattered unto the stone floor, and then he whipped his head back around. Snape was beginning to mouth another spell, but James, enraged and unsettled, snatched the other boy's wrist and pinned it back behind him. Snape's fingers collided into the wall, and his wand was knocked from his grasp.

"We should at least even the odds, right?" James smiled, clutching down on Snape's shoulder with his other hand.

"You're so stupid, Potter," Snape declared, his lips upturned in one of the cruelest smirks James had ever seen. James leaned forward because at this juncture...

...everything he did was at the mercy of some gentle impulsion.

"What's that, Snape?" James asked, close to his ear.

"You heard me," Snape spat, his black eyes focused just above James' forehead.

James gripped Snape's shoulder harder—that's what the impulsion told him to do—And he leaned in closer, his leg brushing up against Snape's... because that was what he was told to do...

"I've already won this, Potter."

James hovered against him, and tentatively, he moved his hand up slowly and touched his fingers to the other's neck. Snape went rigid beneath his touch. Encouraged, James just as cautiously wrapped his fingers around the Slytherin's throat like he meant to asphyxiate the other, but really…

Underneath James' fingertips, Snape's skin pulsated erratically.

"What are you doing?" he heard Snape gasp. In disgust? In anger?

In surprise?

James shifted closer, his fingers pushing deeper into Snape's skin, his other hand gripping the Slytherin's wrist tighter. What was he doing? His eyes felt weary, and a buzzing sensation reverberated in the back of his skull, creeping its way forward back behind his lids. He shook his head but found he could not shake the listlessness that was settling in.

What was he doing?

"I must be…"—And just as he mustered enough cohesiveness to respond to the Slytherin, everything grew dark. "…hallucinating…"

And then he could no longer feel the other's pulse within his grasp.

* * *

He awoke to daylight.

Opening one of his eyes blearily, James groped around for his glasses and found them on a table beside him. He slipped them on, and once his eyes adjusted to the light, he saw that he was resting in the Hospital wing. But how did he…?

He remembered cornering Snape and then hexing him. Was he cursed in return? He touched the side of his face and felt the course fabric of a bandage. James wondered if the cut would leave a scar. Snape had certainly wounded him deeply…

He looked around the room, and none of the other beds were being occupied. He dropped his head back unto the pillow when he caught sight of a figure off in a corner of the room. James bolted upright and stared at the figure as if he were still dreaming. He must be. There was no way that—

"Snape…? Wha—?" but James faltered. Snape looked at him blankly before he unfolded his arms and walked over to him.

"A pity… it seems you're still functioning," he said callously, and James tried his damnest to ignore the surprise that surged within his chest. He continued to stare at the Slytherin as if the boy were the ghost of Christmas yet to come. Snape broke their eye contact and headed for the door.

"You… you brought me here?"

He wasn't really saying it to Snape. James was merely voicing something that was so absurd, it's only outlet was to leak unwillingly from his mouth. He didn't believe it anyway. There was no way such a thing was possible.

But then… Snape stopped.

No…

"You brought me here," and this time, it wasn't a question. James felt his bed sheets bunch within his grasps, felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end—heard the uprise in his chest. Snape whirled around.

"I was hoping that if I brought you here, you'd owe me a life debt," he seethed. "I was hoping you were dying." James stared at him, in disbelief, in irritation, in awe, in humor…

He laughed.

"You brought me here!" he grinned, shielding his face with a hand as if unwilling to display his amusement. Snape glared, and his lip curled.

"I had to, Potter. I wanted to leave you there—Who knows? It may have even taught you some sort of lesson—But you were shriveled up on yourself, whimpering and crying all over the floor," Snape said snidely. "The Professors were sure to find you, and if they did—you would have exposed me as well." He crossed his arms across his chest. "I had no choice."

James looked at him again, and then he did allow himself to collapse back against his pillow.

"You really carried me here," James breathed out in wonder.

"No, you idiot!" Snape spat. "I levitated you here! To think I even did that much…" he admitted, glancing off to the side in apparent disgust.

"Why?"

"Why what, Potter?" James glanced over at him.

"Why are you still here?" he asked cautiously, ignoring the sensation that pattered along his lower belly. Snape didn't say anything—didn't even blink. He unfurled his arms, walked forward, stopped beside James' bedside…

…and smiled cruelly.

"To tell you, Potter, that while you slept sick in your bed, no one came to see you. Not Lupin—Not Pettigrew—None of your supposed admirers—Not Black..." and his smile slit further,"... not even Evans." He waited for James' reaction, his black eyes glinting with malicious glee, but James…

He didn't know how to respond.

He felt nothing at the declaration.

Snape studied him a bit longer, and still when the comment did not elicit a response, his jeer slipped into transparent confusion. James stared back impassively. "Perhaps you're suffering severe brain trauma—more than you already do anyway," Snape stated, leaning back. James rolled his eyes and sighed tiredly.

"I'm just not surprised," he admitted. "I'm sort of... at odds with everyone at the moment," James explained.

"I don't care, Potter," Snape jabbed.

"Of course you wouldn't, and yet you still brought me here," James commented. He saw Snape visibly bristle and felt pleased by such a reaction. "By the way, how'd you break the blinding curse?" What? That wasn't what he had wanted to say. It must have been some left over side-effect from the medicine Pomfrey had him on. He just hoped that Snape didn't notice just how uncomfortable he suddenly was.

"Is this guilt?" Snape asked disbelievingly after an awkward stretch of silence. "And just so you know, I don't feel an ounce of it. In fact, I think I was too lenient."

"This is too lenient?" James asked deadpanned as he gingerly probed his wound. Snape smirked down on him.

"I assure you, it could have been far worse."

"I didn't recognize the spell," James stated, more to himself than to Snape.

"That's because it's my own," Snape said, and James detected more than just pride in his tone. He slowly regarded the Slytherin who stood calmly beside his bed. Snape was at the level where he could invent his own spells?

"Well... I suppose if you have nothing better to do..." he barely managed to get out.

"That's right. Tell yourself you're not the least bit disconcerted," Snape grinned.

"With what?" James whipped back. In truth, he could never let on how right Snape was.

"You think I'm surpassing you," Snape began. His voice was low, quiet—suitable in respect for a place such as the Hospital Wing—but the edges of his words bit out at James' insides with a glacial severity. "I know I have already, Potter... long ago."

"You're not better than me," James replied quietly, his chest tightening uncomfortably.

"I no longer care. I don't have time for this—"

"Can you feel darkness?"

Snape stilled, and James wanted to bash the back of his skull in. Why had he just asked that? What the hell did that even mean? He could feel the Slytherin's calculating scrutiny.

"Why are you asking me?"

"Because you're right next to me," James answered exasperatedly, dodging the real reason as to why he put the question to the Slytherin in the first place.

"I don't think so. It's because you think I'm up to my eyes in Dark-Arts—Because I have to be so utterly tainted by evil to appreciate such magic, right?" James was not so naive that he couldn't hear the defensiveness in Snape's tone.

"Sure... you've read my mind," James replied flippantly. He would not acknowledge why he asked what he asked, but he knew he wanted to hear what Snape's answer was.

"You can't feel darkness, Potter. I don't believe that absence of light is something tangible," Snape chided.

"And here I thought you'd understand a metaphorical question. Don't you loom by candlelight in your dank cavern, penning all your little woes down on parchment?" James sneered.

"Your romanticism is sickening," Snape said harshly, "and even metaphorically, your notion is still ridiculous."

"So... you don't then," James surmised. Did he feel disappointed by that?

"Why are you asking at all?" Snape inquired. It was not without difficulty that James replied.

"Because I think I can."

He thought he sensed Snape tense beside him, but when he cautioned a furtive glance, Snape was merely regarding him in the same way he might a stain on his robes. James felt his skin crawl under the unwavering stare.

"What? You can spit it out, you know. You think I'm ridiculous, don't you? Well maybe someone so cut off from others can't even begin to feel—"

"That's not what I was going to say," Snape cut in.

"Then what?"

"Just that maybe you're not as stupid as I thought you were."

James felt his stomach flip, and he immediately berated himself for such a reaction. He did not feel happy about possibly being complimented—at least complimented in Snape's own twisted way. Yes, he was definitely not pleased about it… Maybe.

Just then Madam Pomfrey came bustling in, saving James from possibly making an arse out of himself, and wasting no time in examining her patient. Snape made no attempt to leave. James felt like closing in on himself, the room was getting a bit warm.

"Hmm… are you running a slight fever, I wonder?" Madam Pomfrey remarked, bringing the back of her hand to James' forehead. "You do seem a little flushed…"

Why did Hogwarts feel it necessary to have an anti-apparition jinx? Merlin, if he could just will himself away from this room...

Snape's brow furrowed in confusion, and James wanted to inform the Slytherin that his presence was anything but a comfort to one ailing such as him.

"I'll be back with some medicine to soothe the wound. It may also take away some of that warmness," the nurse announced as she leaned back from James. She then turned to Snape. "Thank you again, Mr. Snape, for bringing him here." She turned to leave after Snape gave a slight bow of his head, but James could hear her talking to herself as she shuffled in the back pantry. "What a bizarre spell—to make someone lose consciousness like that…" James fixed his glare on Snape.

"One of yours, I take it?" he accused hotly. Snape crossed his arms over his chest, and James watched as one of his long, pale fingers began tapping his upper arm.

"Why, Potter. I'm flattered you think I've managed to event two such debilitating spells," he said smugly. James gritted his teeth.

"So you didn't then?"

"No, I did—I just think it's odd that you would so readily assume it as well," Snape said evenly, his gaze darting over to the window as if he couldn't be bothered to address James directly.

"One nasty spell and now this one. I don't believe it was such an enormous leap, do you?" James bit back.

"—Of course, my spell shouldn't cause someone to break out with a fever…" he continued on, as if not hearing James, and he looked down at him haughtily. "You must be of a weaker disposition than I thought." James tensed.

"Come off it, Snape. Don't you have somewhere else to be?" he asked.

"Too true, Potter," and with that, Snape was striding out in a swish of black robes. James had never seen anyone leave a room so… dramatically before. James almost felt himself smile at the thought when Snape suddenly stopped and faced him again from the doorway. "One more thing, Potter," Snape began coldly. "You've been out for a whole day—You've missed Potions class. Miss another, and I really will take full credit for it."

And then he was gone.

James stared off at the now empty space between the double doors, his eyes half-lidded and really taking in nothing.

But his mind sure was astir.

That… had been the oddest encounter with Snape… to date. He squirmed lower into his bed sheets, brining the soft fabric up over his nose so that only his eyes and the top of his head were poking out. He replayed it within his mind over and over again, trying to wheedle out any tale-tale signs that Snape was up to something diabolical—something Slytherin.

But he just couldn't.

Merely, Snape had only wanted to do what James himself might have done if their roles had been reversed— Run the humiliation of the loser into the ground. Only… really… Snape hadn't been as… relentless as say James might have been, and that, more than anything, peeked his interest— made his mind scramble further to make sense of it all.

He tossed over onto his side and stared out of the window. The light was too bright just then, making him squint reflexively, so he turned on his other side. But there were the double doors, and that just made him think about how he was alone in the room again. He didn't like it, so he turned unto his back again. And as he stared up at the ceiling, he wondered if Peeves the Poltergeist would have the common decency to spread a little mayhem down in the Hospital wing for entertainment's sake.

What James loathed more than anything was boredom…

Didn't it use to be something else though?

When Madam Pomfrey appeared again with a round of concoctions to take, James was eased into a restful slumber by the end of it. And as he closed his eyes, one thought permeated the fog of sleep.

_I wonder if Snape will come back tomorrow…_

* * *

James made sure to take as long as possible when reaching his potions class. If he timed it correctly, he'd get there just as Slughorn would commence the day's lesson. He couldn't bear to suffer through the arduous awkwardness with Sirius at the moment, and he certainly didn't think he could pretend that his friend hadn't shown up to see if he was still alive. He understood why Sirius shouldn't have come, but he didn't understand why his mate hadn't. Remus and Peter were excusable—they were too easily influenced by Sirius' whims. And Lily…?

Well, James didn't think he had wanted to see her even if she had come.

He paused outside the classroom, the lively banter inside filling the hall. He was good; Slughorn was just about ready to get down to business. James sauntered in, like he would any other day—like he hadn't just been dismissed by his circle of friends— and took his seat where he did every time.

It was okay because Sirius was in the back with Remus.

His friends hadn't acknowledged him—Well, Remus had, sort of, with a slight wave—but that was alright because James wasn't acknowledging them either. When he had returned from the hospital wing, his supposed mates hadn't even glanced up from what looked to be a study session, though James suspected it just a means with which to ignore James. He hadn't cared. Not really. Not like he should have anyway. This all right now was only a show—a demonstration that James could endure under the childishness of his mates and do so indifferently. After all, he was above such things, right?

That's what he told himself as he sidled into his seat and adopted his usual stance of boredom and disinterest. He wouldn't admit that he knew differently.

Class started up, and Slughorn instructed all the students to get into their pairs. There was a shuffling of chairs and papers and bags and a quiet murmur of voices as the students did just that. James made no motion to move, but then again, neither did Snape. Only once the entire class had settled into their pairs did Slughorn realize the two sitting at opposite ends of the room.

"You two—someone needs to move," Slughorn said. James wouldn't budge. It wasn't a test; he was just making a point. He nonchalantly glanced over at Snape, the Slytherin's back was to him. Yes, James would not go over to Snape.

Snape would come to him.

And then Snape stood, and James allowed himself to feel the surge of triumph in his chest because it meant that everything was normal.

But Snape deviated.

He went to fetch the cauldron, and he levitated it back to his side of the room before he gathered the ingredients and arranged them in that way that only he understood to be most efficient and effective. He never turned to see if James was there—that he even knew James was there— and James had the disheartening thought that Snape was glad that he was not in class. The bereft disappointment only morphed into irritation at the blatant dismissal.

James gathered his things irately, and after crossing the room in less steps than it normally took, he shurgged his bag off his shoulder and plopped down beside Snape. The only recognition he received from the Slytherin was a slight brow rise. Then again, that could be Snape's focus on the potion, but James was more than irritated to care at this point.

"Sorry to disappoint you," James said, rearranging the ingredients flippantly. Snape did not respond. "I bet you thought this project was all yours to claim."

"If only I were so fortunate," Snape mumbled inattentively, his face stooped low over the simmering contents of the cauldron. "Do your part, Potter," he then said, blithely gesturing to the nettles. James blinked confusedly for a moment. Snape was truly different when it came to Potions, it seemed. The strangeness of his attitude even alleviated some of James' bitterness.

Some.

"I'd say I'm rather intrigued by this bout of confidence you've seemed to have found, but really… it's just an irritant," James said, and even as he spewed forth the insult, he found it didn't carry the charm that his wit usually did. Worse yet was how even through the insult, James was doing exactly as Snape had instructed him to do.

"It's not newly found, Potter," Snape said distantly as he scribbled something down in his potions book. James glanced over and saw that most of the margins had been crammed full of tiny, almost illegible writing. It seemed the book really was Snape's diary. "You've just been forcing your presence on me more than usual. You were bound to notice it sooner or later."

James balked, and he almost dropped the gutted innards of a lizard all over Snape. Snape eyed him warily and realizing that it was because James had been stunned into that reaction, he displayed a rather haughty smile. "You've noticed this, too, I take it?" Snape taunted. James tried his hardest to ignore the relentless palpitations of his heart, but the ensuing tightening in his chest was a different matter altogether. "I've told you before why I think this happens," Snape said blandly as he turned to what he surely thought was more important.

"Snape, I swear, if I hear it regurgitated from your mouth one more time I'll—" James began.

"What? Curse me? And how did that go the other night?" Snape put snidely. James ignored this effortlessly as he glared at Snape spitefully.

"—or I'll levitate this potion right over Slughorn. And, if I'm as lackadaisical with my magic as you've implied, who knows how long it'll take before the entire contents spill." This was a stupendously stupid bit of goating, but James didn't care. It was getting the intended reaction out of the Slytherin that he had hoped it would. Snape narrowed his eyes and shifted his gaze warily to where Slughorn was currently hovering over Lily's potion.

"Yes, I'm so sure," Snape smiled, turning back to James. He didn't think he would. Not with Lily in the crossfire.

"Oh, I wouldn't be though," and James flicked his wand from out of his robe, whispered the proper incantation, and their cauldron hovered above the fire a good four inches. Snape threw his hands out as if to physically hinder the cauldron but withdrew when he sensed the incredible heat emanating from it. He looked wildly over at James.

"That would be incredibly low… even for you," he hissed. James wondered for a moment if this reaction was because Snape thought Lily was in danger or because his potion was. He snuffed the thought that told him what he wanted it to be.

"I'm only fucking with you, Snivellus. I'd only get like a month's worth of detention, and then I'd probably just have to do this potion all over again… with you, so… No. I'm sorry. You're not worth that level of strife," James answered returning the cauldron back to its rightful spot.

"No, but you still may have ruined it, Potter," Snape chastised as he fretted over the concoction. "If its lost even a fraction of the heat needed, this whole project is botched." James watched interestedly as Snape checked over their potion again and again. After a moment, he stood back, looking relieved. "Luckily, you haven't screwed us both over. How about you call upon that rumored Gryffindor civility I've yet to witness so we can finish this without incident?" Snape put callously. James pursed his lips out in thought and then shrugged his shoulders. Sound reasoning, he supposed.

So the rest of the class did, indeed, go on without further happenings, James working surprisingly well under the Slytherin's muted guidance. That was until Slughorn suddenly called for them to wrap up their day's work so the final instructions could be doled out. The students did as instructed, they neatly put away their cauldrons and ingredients so as to be replaced by parchment and quills.

And they all jotted down the notes for the day as dictated by Slughorn.

James was finishing up the bit on how their potion was of use to some famous witch or wizard in a time before he could even care about when he stretched through the monotony of note taking and tapped his knee against Snape's.

He stilled.

A pang of shock raced through his body, but why should it have? It was nothing more than an accidental bump, and nothing to remark upon. Only that he did, and he found that after a minute's reflection…

…he wanted to do it again.

So he did. But this time he didn't pull it away, and Snape, either not noticing or not caring, did not move his. James gripped his quill tighter, fraying the feathers in his clammy grasp.

And still, he shifted his leg more so that his outer thigh barely brushed up against Snape's. His heart was merciless in his ribcage, like he believed that at any moment, the muscles would force his ribs to puncture his lungs, but still he moved his leg further and further until the entire length of his leg was pressed against Snape's.

And James did feel the tension in the other then…

But Snape hadn't moved his leg yet either.

He wondered how much further he could push into Snape… There was such heat between their thighs—And a heat in his chest—on the back of his neck and the base of his skull—

—and a heat spreading out from his stomach and moving lower…

James almost jolted in shock when the bell sounded sonorously through the class.

"Ah! Seems that's all for today, class! Remember to read the passages from pages sixty five to seventy eight! Off with you lot now!" Slughorn proclaimed jovially. 

James made to open his mouth, to say something to the Slytherin— his name— a sound—something! But before Slughorn had even properly finished his sentence, Snape was out the door.

And James staggered up. He gathered his things. And yes, he did notice the slight tremble in his hand. He adjusted the strap over his shoulder. And yes, his knees certainly wobbled under the weight. He then made to leave as well.

And yes, his body was unbearably warm.

Were his glasses fogging up, too? No… his vision was blurry though. Did Snape put that spell on him again? No… James wasn't feeling tired.

He felt delirious.

He almost walked into a desk only to then almost stumble into another Slytherin before he reigned in what remained of his fraying senses and bolted.

He tore down the hall, jostling pedestrian after pedestrian until he made his way up to the abandoned corridor on the third floor and hid himself in one of its dusted, neglected rooms.

He slid down unto the ground and cradled his rampaging head within his hands and knew exactly what was wrong with him.

And how could he have been so stupid?

How could he have sunk so low?

How could he have let that darkness defile him this much?

Because this was nothing but a curse— A just consequence for James allowing that pooling murk to fester within him.

And he didn't care that his heart was beating uncontrollably and not just out of shock. And he didn't care that his body was shaking slightly with trepidation… At the prospect? No, it couldn't be. And he didn't care that there was a little voice in the back of his skull singing its relief that he finally had a name to put to this sensation.

He didn't care about all these things because the only thing he could think of was how…

He no longer hated Snape has much as he thought.

—that he didn't hate him at all, and that, in fact…

…it was quite the opposite.


End file.
